Tobacco Road
by rahleeyah
Summary: When Brenda meets Sharon Raydor, she finds herself remembering another woman she once knew, one who changed her life forever. Brenda/Sharon, Brenda/OFC
1. Chapter 1

_I often think about that summer  
>The sweat, the moonlight, and the lace<br>And I have rarely held another  
>When I haven't seen her face<br>-"That Summer", Garth Brooks  
>···<em>

Of all the things Brenda Leigh hadn't been expecting to deal with tonight, the flood of memories that washed over her at the sound of Sharon Raydor's voice was the one that most bewildered the beleaguered Deputy Chief.

It had begun with no more than a look, a blur of navy blue and perfect hair, and Brenda found herself overcome, torn in a thousand different directions as she struggled to maintain control over herself and the situation despite the turmoil that had overtaken her when the Captain entered. It was the strangest thing, she thought as she stared at the woman even as she resolutely kept her back turned on Brenda; it was almost as if all of Brenda's memories had been plucked from her mind, molded into flesh and set down before her. The clear green eyes, the wealth of dark hair, the curve of her hip, the way her lips carefully formed each of her perfectly articulated words; it was almost as if Brenda could smell the tobacco drying in the barn, feel the touch of hands she hadn't seen in so long, gentle on her skin and leaving their mark on her heart.

And _that woman_ had ignored her! Had breezed by, clearly unaware of the effect she was having, hell-bent on getting her way. Brenda tried to listen to what she was saying, even as she dragged her eyes up and down the body that seemed so familiar, so like the one that had haunted her dreams since she was seventeen years old.

_I am in so much trouble, _she thought, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.

She looked away, focusing on the sound of the Captain's voice, listening to the biting way she addressed Gabriel and his attorney.

"Do you need help with the word immediately?" Raydor said, her voice low and deadly calm, the threat clearly evident.

_She _had possessed that same talent, Brenda remembered. To be more terrifying when she lowered her voice than when she raised it, to command respect, to hide her vulnerabilities behind a wall of strength. And _oh_ but she had been so vulnerable, so in need of someone to help hold her up, and as Brenda stared at the dark-haired Captain, she couldn't help but wonder what it was Raydor needed.

She caught David's eye and silently berated herself for getting lost in her own mess when he was the one who needed her now. _Time to go to work,_ she told herself, taking a deep breath when she realized that Raydor was turning, focusing all of her attentions on Brenda instead. She wasn't seventeen anymore, she was a Deputy Chief and this woman, no matter how enticing she might be, wasn't the one that Brenda remembered from that summer long ago; this woman was trying to incriminate _David Gabriel_ of all people, and it was up to Brenda to protect him.

"Captain Raydor, it is so nice to finally meet you," Brenda said, the words not true in the least but then her mama had raised her to be polite, even when the person you were talking to made your blood boil. Brenda had heard quite a bit about the Captain, none of it good, and had hoped to avoid her for as long as possible. And after seeing Raydor in action, Brenda found that everything she'd heard was true. The woman seemed to be a bitch to the core, stubborn and determined to get her own way.

Brenda wished she didn't like that about her, but she did.

"So, I was told that Sergeant Gabriel and the victim had been sent to Cedars, and here you all are at Saint Catherine's Medical Center, and I was just wondering, how is it that you happened to be at the right hospital while I was sent to the wrong one?"

Brenda actually had to force herself to stare at the tip of the woman's nose; her lips were enchanting when they moved that way, and her eyes held a fire that scared the blonde Deputy Chief. She had to put a stop to this; she couldn't allow herself a moment's hesitation. David's career was on the line, and this woman appeared to be determined to destroy him.

Brenda wasn't about to let her.

She took a deep breath and smiled. "If I may, I'd like to offer some advice. When investigating shootings like this, I question the criminals first, before my fellow officers." She had intended to shame the woman, to point out that Gabriel was not in the wrong here, that they were all on the same side. And if she was honest with herself, she was also trying to antagonize the Captain. She imagined the dark-haired beauty was lovely when she smiled, and the last thing she needed now was the… _distraction_ of such loveliness in her life. Let the Captain hate her; that would make things so much easier.

Raydor was having none of it, however; her eyes narrowed and her lips just kept right on moving. The tension lay thick on the ground between them, and though Brenda had succeeded in her attempts to pull rank, there was something in Raydor's eyes when she said, "Excuse me. Got work to do," that told Brenda in no uncertain terms that she had not won this round. She also had not won the Captain's respect.

Raydor turned and walked away, hips swinging, long, lean legs slicing under the hem of her navy coat, her officers flanking her like bodyguards, and Brenda couldn't help but stare.

_I am in so much trouble,_ she thought.

···

Brenda had gone home, to shower and change her clothes, and though her mind should have been firmly on the case, she found she could not focus on Gabriel and the mystery behind this shooting. She couldn't focus on her husband, still clinging to sleep in the bed they shared.

She had never told Fritz about that summer, about Anna Grace Robinson and everything that had happened between them. After Anna Grace, there hadn't been another woman who had so fully captured Brenda's attention. To be perfectly honest, there hadn't been any men, either, who had made her feel the way she did when she was seventeen and spending her long summer days with the lonely widow. But she'd gone back to Atlanta at the end of the summer and tried her best to forget it, put it behind her, pretend that _that woman_, with her long dark hair and quiet grace, hadn't so completely turned her life upside down.

And as the years passed, Brenda thought of her less and less; and yet, every now and then, Brenda would lay awake in the darkness with the smell of grass and moonshine on her mind, wondering what had happened to Anna Grace.

And now, Sharon Raydor. Every bit as distracting as Anna had been. Just as much of a challenge. Brenda found herself consumed with a desire to know her, to touch her, to hear her laugh. And as she stood beneath the pounding water pouring out of her shower (just a touch too hot, but she really couldn't be bothered to pay attention to details like that) her mind wandered back, to one summer so very long ago, and the woman who had changed Brenda in a way she'd never fully understood.

···


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: And so the flashbacks begin! I would like to apologize for a couple things: 1) I did not mean to name my OFC Mrs. Robinson. It was an accident, albeit an ironic one. Please don't hold it against me. 2) Most of the details of the tobacco farm and what Brenda does there come from personal experience (although I made $13/hour). They say write what you know, and what I know is slightly illegal tobacco farms in western North Carolina. Also country music. Enjoy!**

**···**

_I went to work for her that summer  
>A teenage kid so far from home<br>She was a lonely widow woman  
>Hell-bent to make it on her own<br>We were a thousand miles from nowhere  
>Wheat fields as far as I could see<br>Both needing something from each other  
>Not knowing yet what that might be<br>-"That Summer", Garth Brooks  
>···<em>

Brenda stared sullenly out the window, the bright sunlight slanting mockingly through the blue curtains. _This must be hell_, she thought. Hell was a big empty house in the middle of nowhere, with nothing to do and all day to do it in.

"It'll be good for you," her parents had said as they dropped her off at the airport. "You need to get out of the city for awhile."

What they meant was Brenda needed to get away from her friends. Mama and Daddy had made their disapproval perfectly clear; her friends were too loud, too disrespectful, too… much for Brenda's parents' liking.

And so they had shipped her off to spend the summer with her mother's sister Darlene in North Carolina. Darlene's husband had recently left her, much to the family's dismay, and Brenda suspected that her parents weren't thinking only of her welfare when they made their decision. Someone needed to keep Brenda out of trouble, but someone needed to keep Darlene out of trouble, too.

Unfortunately, Darlene was less than ecstatic about the prospect of looking after her seventeen-year-old niece for the next two months. She had picked Brenda up at the airport in Greensboro, complaining from the moment she started the car until the two-hour drive was over. Traffic was terrible, Brenda's parents were inconsiderate, Brenda's shorts were too short, the sun was too hot; her list of complaints went on and on, and she rattled them off with an almost religious fervor.

Once they were safely home, Darlene effectively abandoned Brenda, retreating to the relative cool of her kitchen with a mimosa in one hand and her house phone in the other. Darlene had talked and talked and talked- to whom Brenda wasn't sure- leaving the teenager to explore the house on her own.

Not that there was much to discover. No television, a busted radio, and nothing but dime-store romance novels on the bookshelves.

Brenda was doomed.

Darlene had tossed a sandwich at her around 6pm, but other than that had paid Brenda little attention. Brenda had fallen asleep certain that this forced isolation would kill her.

It didn't, however, because she woke early the next morning with sunlight on her face. She contemplated lying in bed all day; she was fairly certain Darlene wouldn't notice one way or the other. She quickly grew restless, however, and so she rose, dressing quietly in the stillness of the morning before emerging into the stifling dullness of the house beyond her bedroom door.

Darlene had yet to rise, and so Brenda set about finding breakfast on her own. The food in the refrigerator was less than inspiring: sandwich meat and condiments, a few covered casserole dishes and little else. Toast was out of the question, as Darlene appeared to have used the last of the bread for sandwiches the night before. The coffee maker also turned out to be a disappointment as it was ancient and covered in a thick layer of dust.

Brenda poured herself a glass of water and perched on the window seat, and that was how Darlene found her when she finally did come stomping in the kitchen. Darlene grunted at her in greeting before moving to the fridge. She gave a disheartened sigh as she stared at the contents before pulling out the casserole dish and a covered container of green beans.

"Brenda Leigh," she sad as she set them on the table, "I have an errand I need you to run."

Brenda stared at her. It would be nice to have something to do, but she was still feeling petulant over having been sent here in the first place. She said nothing as she waited for Darlene to continue.

"I have to run into town for some groceries, and I need you to take this food over to the Widow Robinson."

So that was her errand. Take lunch to an old lady. _Fantastic._

"Come on, Brenda Leigh, I don't have all day," Darlene snapped.

Brenda rose begrudgingly and watched as Darlene placed the dishes in a picnic basket. "Make sure you bring that basket back, now," Darlene said dismissively.

"How am I supposed to get there?" Brenda asked. She'd been staring out the window all morning and she couldn't see another house in either direction.

Darlene sighed. "Walk out of the house and go left. Follow the signs to Tobacco Road. Once you get to the gate you'll see the house. Although, knowing _that woman_ she'll probably be in the barn."

There was something in the way Darlene said _that woman_ that gave Brenda the impression that the Widow Robinson was probably not a sweet old lady._ She's probably a crazy bitch,_ Brenda thought. And in Brenda Leigh Darlene had the perfect excuse to do her Christian duty without having to actually speak to the woman.

···

Darlene tore off in a cloud of gravel dust leaving Brenda with her picnic basket to find her way alone. It was ungodly hot, and the blue-tinted mountains rose tauntingly above her. Brenda longed to climb their heights, to look down on this podunk nowhere town from high above, free as a bird. _It's probably cooler up there,_ she thought. Darlene didn't seem to be the type of person who took day trips to the mountains, however, and Brenda doubted that her aunt would indulge her.

Darlene had been less than specific as to how long Brenda could expect to walk and she'd been going for twenty minutes down the dirt track before she saw the first sign for Tobacco Road. It was a hand-painted piece of wood stuck in the ground, proudly proclaiming that it was another two miles before Brenda would reach her destination. She groaned and changed her grip on the basket.

The sweat poured down her neck and back, and her hands slipped on the handles of the basket. Miserable didn't even begin to cover how unhappy she was as she trekked along. She prayed the Widow Robinson had air conditioning.

Finally she happened upon a farm edged by a wooden crisscross fence, a large red gate swung open to admit tractors and pedestrians alike. A huge barn, leaning just a little, loomed off to the right, surrounded by a bevy of smaller outbuildings, and a stately white farmhouse with a tin roof sat to the left of the tractor path. She could hear the distant whinnying of horses and the hum of machinery.

An old man stood hunched under the hood of a small hay baler just inside the gate. He looked up when he heard Brenda approach, pulling a faded blue bandana from his back pocket to wipe the sweat from his face.

"Help you?" he asked in an unfamiliar high-country twang.

Brenda lifted her basket slightly. "Darlene Hodges sent me. I'm looking for Mrs. Robinson."

The old man laughed. "Ain't no Mrs. Robinson here," he said, "There's just Anna Grace, and if she hears you call her Missus, she'd be likely to smack you."

Brenda stared at him blankly. She didn't give two shits what the old broad wanted to be called. She wanted a glass of ice water, she wanted to sit, and she wanted to put down that damn basket.

"Well, is Anna Grace around?" she asked, her tone betraying her impatience. The old man blinked owlishly at her.

"Might be in the barn," he answered after a pause. "I'll take ya."

Brenda wanted to point out that she could find the way to the barn on her own- it was rather hard to miss- but instead she shrugged and fell into step beside the old man.

"So it's Mrs. Hodges' week to send food, then?" he said, a statement disguised as a question. Brenda shrugged.

"She told me to bring the food, so I brought it."

The old man was looking at her out of the corner of his eye, the knowing kind of expression old people uses when they think teenagers are being rude but Brenda couldn't have cared less. She never though she'd want to be back in Darlene's house, but at this moment she would have traded anything for the cool and the silence.

The old man swung open the heavy wooden door of the barn and Brenda followed him inside, turning up her nose at the smell that immediately greeted her. Low fires burned along the edges of the barn, making the building stifling hot. A long table ran down the center of the room, and a sting of people stood on either side, doing something Brenda didn't quite understand with ream after ream of huge brown leaves. Up in the loft more people were hanging batches of tobacco leaves to dry over the fires. A radio was attempting to play twangy music through a heavy veil of static, and the buzz of conversation only added to the general sense of chaos within.

"There she is," the old man said over the noise, pointing to a tall thin woman at the near end of the table. Her back was turned so Brenda couldn't see her face, only a mass of thick, honey-brown hair pulled back into an unruly ponytail.

"Anna!" the old man called, and the woman turned.

She was absolutely lovely. Brenda had been expecting an old woman, but Anna Grace didn't look to be even forty. As she approached, the thin lines at her eyes and the corners of her mouth came into focus only serving to add dignity to her proud features.

"Jimmy?" she said, that one word expressing her confusion at the sight of the sweaty blonde teenager before her.

"Darlene sent her. I think she bought lunch," he said, and Anna scoffed.

"Nothing like charity from the biggest bitch in the county." She reached out, taking the basket from Brenda.

"Who are you?" she asked, clear green eyes capturing Brenda's gaze and rooting her to the spot.

"B-B-Brenda Leigh Johnson," she stammered in response, "Darlene's niece."

_Very cool, Brenda,_ she thought,_ well done._

"Well, Brenda Leigh, you look like you could use a sweet tea for your trouble."

"That would be really nice," Brenda smiled up at her, overcome with gratitude.

"Come on then," Anna said, heading for the door of the barn. "Oh, and Jimmy!" she called over her shoulder. "You get my baler working yet?"

Jimmy offered a toothy grin. "Almost," he called in answer before the heavy door fell shut, blocking him from view.

Anna Grace didn't say a word as they trekked across the hard-packed dirt of the yard. The more Brenda looked the more she realized the compound was a hive of activity, people and dogs and farm equipment coming and going. She felt like a puppy trailing along after Anna Grace, attracting the stares of the workers as they passed by.

Anna led her inside the sprawling house, into the cool dark of the foyer. "Kitchen's this way," Anna said, breaking off to the right, leading Brenda into a spacious yellow heaven.

Brenda plopped into a tall-backed chair by the table as Anna headed for the fridge, putting the dishes inside and pulling out a tall glass pitcher of sweet tea.

Brenda had never been so happy to see a glass of tea as she was when Anna placed one in front of her.

"Thank you," she said, and Anna flashed her a cheerful grin before sitting down with her own glass.

"Didn't know Darlene had a niece," she said.

Brenda wasn't very good at small talk, but she was so thankful for the tea and the cool air that she found herself making an effort.

"Darlene's my mother's sister," she explained.

"You got brothers or sisters?"

"Three brothers," she answered.

Anna laughed. "I'm sorry. Must be hard as hell to get a boyfriend with three brothers to scare them off."

Brenda smiled. "It's not my brothers who scare off the boys, it's my daddy. He was in the military."

Anna nodded, a distant expression taking over her face. "My husband was in the Army," she said, and Brenda was overcome by the desire to offer comfort to the beautiful woman sitting across the table from her. _The Widow Robinson_, Darlene had called her. Brenda wondered if her husband had died in combat. Might explain some things. She wasn't about to ask however; Anna's dead husband was probably not a good topic of conversation this sunny morning.

"So how long are you going to be with us?" Anna asked, and Brenda knew the woman hadn't meant anything by it, but she briefly wished she were spending the summer here with the people and the dogs and the tobacco leaves and the Widow Robinson, instead of with Darlene.

"For June and July," she answered, "Going back to Atlanta the first of August."

"Atlanta," Anna asked with a sly smile. "A city girl," she said, and Brenda found herself blushing. She felt embarrassed somehow to be from a big city and not a tobacco farm. She felt suddenly like a spoiled child.

She sipped her tea in silence.

"Well," Anna said after awhile, "Tell Darlene I said thank you for the food."

Brenda's heart sank. She really didn't want to leave just yet. The long trek back to Darlene's empty house loomed before her.

"Could I stay for awhile?" she asked, the words coming out before she had a chance to think better of it.

Anna titled her head, an amused expression dancing across her face.

"I could help out or something," Brenda added lamely, and Anna smiled.

The moment Anna spent formulating her response was one of the longest in Brenda's life. Everything hung on what the woman chose to say. Either Brenda could stay with her, actually do something with her time, or she could be sent away, back to the bleakness of Darlene's house and the promise of a summer wasted in solitary confinement. She wasn't sure where this overpowering need to stay with Anna had come from; she only knew that the last thing she wanted was to leave the woman with the honey-brown hair and the whiskey-rough voice.

Finally, finally Anna spoke.

"You wanna help out?" she asked.

Brenda nodded fervently.

"All right, then. Come with me." Anna slid gracefully out of her chair and headed for the front door.

···

Brenda stared at the tiny room with a certain sense of foreboding. When she said she wanted to help out, she thought that meant she'd be in the big barn with everyone else, or possible out somewhere beyond the buildings where the smell of hay and the sounds of horse carried on the breeze. She had not expected Anna to lead her to one of the small outbuildings, and she had not expected this room.

There were several small tables in the center of the room, and there were wooden pallets stacked in neat rows all along the wall, piled high with boxes. Anna had led her to one of the tables with a gentle hand on her shoulder, and Brenda could feel the warmth of the tall woman emanating out from that soft touch, making her sweat more than she had on the walk over.

There was a pallet of boxes at the end of the table, and Anna stood on tip-toe to pull down the first box and plunk it down on the floor. She led Brenda around, and motioned for her to sit in one of the metal folding chairs tucked up under the table. Once she was seated, Brenda looked up at Anna expectantly.

"Hang on just one second," Anna said, disappearing from the room briefly.

Brenda took the opportunity to glance in the box Anna had dropped on the floor. It was filled with row upon row of shiny silver cans. Brenda didn't have to open the cans to know what was in them; the cans were exactly the same size as the Copenhagen ring in Jimmy's back pocket.

Anna reappeared, carrying yet another box, though this one was much smaller than the others. She reached inside and pulled out several items, placing them on the table in front of Brenda.

The teenager stared down in surprise at roll after roll of printed labels, and several glue sticks.

_What the hell is this, arts and crafts?_

"You wanna make some money?" Anna asked, standing back, hands on her hips, looking proud of herself.

Brenda nodded, confused but curious at the same time.

"I'll pay you ten bucks an hour to label these cans," Anna said, "and an extra twenty if you get this whole pallet done by the end of the day."

Brenda stared up at the mountain of boxes, trying to figure out in her head just how many cans she would have to glue labels on, and just how much time she had left to do it in. _There's no way in hell,_ she thought, but there was a challenge in Anna's voice that she couldn't ignore.

"Sounds good to me," she said, and Anna grinned at her.

"All right then," she said, "I'll be back to check on you in a little while." And with that she disappeared, although on her way out the door she did take the time to switch on the busted-looking radio.

Brenda sighed and pulled out the first can of tobacco. _Here we go._

···

At first Brenda was worried that she was going to spend the day alone after all, but her assumption was quickly disproven. Three girls who looked to be about her age showed up around lunchtime, and took seats at the tables around her. And because they were four teenage girls trapped in the same place in the middle of a summer day, they began talk. Becky and Casey and Virginia were locals, their parents old friends of Anna's, and they did this every summer. They were taken with the blonde stranger in their midst, and they were nearly overjoyed to discover that Brenda was from Atlanta. They asked her questions and told her all the gossip about people she'd never met, and the time passed much more quickly than Brenda expected.

Anna appeared around 1:30 that afternoon, and she seemed pleased when she saw the girls laughing and joking together. She also seemed pleased with Brenda's progress.

"You're doing all right, kid," she said when she saw that Brenda had two boxes done already. Brenda had the good grace to smile; it had taken her a little while to get the hang of it. The first few labels were off-center, and on more than one occasion she'd glued the label with the brand's logo onto the bottom of the can and the label with the contents and surgeon general's warning on the top. She'd learned the difference between the two, however, and had struck up a remarkably fast paced.

"I might just get all these boxes done," Brenda said, and Anna raised her eyebrow at the girl's confidence.

"Well, maybe. But I think you need lunch first."

Brenda hadn't had anything to eat all day, and she'd walked more than three miles just to get there in the first place, but somehow her hunger had been forgotten in favor of her excitement at finding this place. She hadn't even thought to call Darlene to tell her where she'd gone; she panicked for the briefest of moments wondering what kind of hell she could expect when she got back.

"Come on inside, and I'll get you something to eat. And don't worry about Darlene, I called to let her know where you are."

Brenda stood up, rubbing a hand across her neck. She'd been sitting there, bent over the table for quite a while, and she was beginning to feel the effect of it. She followed Anna out of the tiny building, realizing that it was even hotter now than it had been in the morning. It was humid, the kind of day when the air feels so thick you could almost cut it with a knife, and every time you open your mouth it feels like breathing under water. She was grateful when she found herself back in Anna's kitchen with a sandwich, a banana, and a tall glass of sweet tea in front of her.

"Having fun?" Anna asked, leaning against the counter.

Brenda nodded. "I like the girls a lot," she said. Anna laughed.

"You like the girls, but not the work?"

Brenda shrugged, a sheepish grin on her face. "It's kind of hard to get excited about gluing labels on cans."

"Tell me about it. That's why I've got the girls doing it. No one else will sit there for hours on end."

An easy silence fell, the kind of quiet that was more appropriate for old friends than for a teenage girl and a middle-aged woman who had only met that morning. But Brenda had never been as intrigued by another person as she was by Anna Grace, and she found she had an overwhelming curiosity to know everything there was to know about her, and a desire to stay in the woman's presence for as long as she would be allowed. She chewed very slowly.

"So you sell your own tobacco?" Brenda asked, and Anna nodded.

"Pipe tobacco and dip," she explained. "Most of it goes overseas, but we do some domestic sales. We've also got horses, and we grow the hay to feed them. Casey and Virginia both ride, and they've shown on my horses before."

Brenda had never been the type of girl who rode horses or worked summers at a tobacco farm; she liked to lie in the sun in her bikini, and she liked to go out with her friends, but she felt almost wistful as she listened to Anna talk. There was something about this place, about the people coming and going and the easy familiarity of it that made her wish she belonged there.

"And you run this place all by yourself?" she asked.

There was that flicker of sadness on Anna's face again; the same expression Brenda had seen when Anna told her about her husband.

"Tobacco Road used to belong to my father. He passed away last year, and I came out here to settle his affairs and try to sell it."

"But you didn't?"

Anna shook her head, ran a hand over her hair in a futile attempt to smooth it back in place. "I grew up here, and I just can't imagine anyone else living here. And then Ray died and… well, I haven't had a good reason to leave."

"It's beautiful," Brenda said, because she didn't know what to say. Anna had lost her father and her husband both, had come here for what she must have thought was a short trip, only to find herself trapped indefinitely. It seemed sad that Brenda found she had to actively fight the urge to stand up and hug the lithe woman leaning up against the counter.

After a long and pronounced silence, Anna stood upright. "You finished?" she asked brightly, taking the plate from Brenda and dropping it in the sink. It wasn't exactly a question, and Brenda took the hint. She rose, and followed Anna back out of the house.

As they walked, Brenda cast about for something to say, and was horrified when they only words that came out of her mouth were, "Your barn's leaning just a little."

Anna looked at her sideways, but the tiniest hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

"They do that, you know. Old barns are like people. After a while, the wind and the rain and the time makes 'em lean just a little to one side or the other. Sometimes you gotta prop 'em up."

"And what about people?" Brenda asked.

"Well, we ask the Lord to prop us up on our leanin' side," she said, the words sounding far more wise than Brenda had expected. "And when the Lord doesn't do it, we lean on each other."

···

Anna came back at 5:30 to tell the girls to go home, just as Brenda glued the label on her very last can. Anna surveyed her handiwork with a smirk, and handed her a wad of bills before sending her on her way.

As she walked back to Darlene's house, Brenda counted the money and realized that Anna had actually given her an extra fifty dollars for finishing the pallet instead of the twenty she had promised.

Brenda expected Darlene to be furious, or at least curious, about where Brenda had spent her day, but her aunt could barely bothered to say hello when she came in the door. Darlene told her there was food in the fridge, but advised her to take a shower first. Brenda did as she was told, replaying the events of the day in her head over and over until she finally fell asleep, her neck aching and her heart full.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I just want to say that, for the record (hey it's a pun!), I did do my research and all of the songs mentioned in this chapter would have been on the radio in 1983. And If Brenda turned 40 in season 2, which aired in 2006, she would have been 17 in 1983. Math is hard. **

**···**

_She came to me one evening  
>Hot cup of coffee and a smile<br>In a dress that I was certain  
>She hadn't worn in quite a while<br>There was a difference in her laughter  
>There was a softness in her eyes<br>And on the air there was a hunger  
>Even a boy could recognize<em>

_-"That Summer", Garth Brooks_

····

Brenda woke early the next morning, and she found herself motivated by a singular purpose. She would not spend the day abed in Darlene's empty house; she would go to Tobacco Road. The farm had come to her like a gift from on high, a chance to actually spend her summer with people she found interesting.

Darlene, true to her word, had bought groceries the day before. Brenda fixed herself some toast, and rummaged through the house until she found a piece of paper. She scribbled a note for her aunt and began the hour-long trek to Tobacco Road. While still insufferably hot, it was at least slightly cooler at 8 am than it had been at 10 the day before, and the anticipation of what awaited her put a spring in Brenda's step.

When she finally reached the bright red gate, she realized she had no idea where to find Anna Grace. Jimmy was nowhere in sight, and though there were a few workers out and about in the yard, Brenda didn't know any of them by name, and she was suddenly overcome with a feeling of awkwardness. She didn't belong here. Maybe Anna had simply taken pity on her the day before. She'd given no indication as to whether or not she wanted Brenda Leigh to come back.

Brenda's feet dragged her reluctantly toward the barn. Her mother's insistent lessons on manners had taught her that it was rude to show up to someone's home uninvited and unannounced, and so she stayed away from the farmhouse. The blast of heat and noise Brenda felt upon opening the barn door took her as much by surprise today as it had yesterday. Everyone seemed to know exactly where they were going and what they needed to do, except for Brenda, who tentatively entered the barn, trying to hide her own confusion.

She must have looked just as out of place as she felt, however, because Jimmy spotted her from the far side of the barn. He approached her, offering a toothy grin.

"Miss Brenda Leigh," he said cheerily, "And how are you this fine day?"

"Hey Jimmy," she replied, incredibly grateful for his timely appearance. "I'm looking for Anna Grace."

Jimmy nodded. "You gonna work again today?" he asked, motioning for her to follow him as he led the way out of the barn.

Brenda nodded in response to his question. "If she'll let me," she said, and Jimmy laughed.

"Anna Grace never turned away nobody who wanted to work."

He was taking her down the tractor path, away from the house and the barn and the little building where Brenda had spent the day gluing labels on cans. The longer they walked the more Brenda began to realize just how large of an operation Tobacco Road really was. As they meandered up and over a small hill, the vast fields below came into view.

Brenda stared awestruck at the acre upon acre of tobacco and hay. Off to the right she could see the small fencing of the horse paddocks, a stable sitting proudly in their midst.

"Anna Grace is down with the horses this morning," Jimmy said, pointing to a small figure a ways off. Even from a distance Brenda could clearly make out Anna's shape, her brown hair and straight posture. It occurred to her that after only one day she really shouldn't be this familiar with Anna Grace and the way that she looked, but Brenda pushed those thoughts aside.

"You want me to go with you?" Jimmy asked, stopping in his tracks.

Brenda shook her head. "I can make it on my own. Thank you," she remembered to add, and once again, Jimmy smiled.

"My pleasure, Brenda Leigh," he said before turning to make his way back to the barn.

Brenda continued on her own, the morning sun bright on her face. She felt as though she were floating, her feet lifted off the ground by the buoyancy of hope. A hope that stemmed from the mere existence of Anna Grace, a woman who had in a very short span of time begun to represent everything Brenda Leigh wanted in life. Anna Grace was free, and she was freedom. She was a woman who ran her own life, who answered to no one. Brenda had begun to wonder what it might be like to be Anna Grace, to make her own rules. People jumped when Anna snapped her fingers, rushing to do what she asked not from fear or sense of duty, but from a desire to make her happy. The girls Brenda had met the day before had spoken of Anna Grace the way Brenda's friends back home talked about celebrities. Brenda wanted to be closer to that kind of power.

Anna seemed to sense Brenda's approach despite the fact that she was facing away from the blonde, and she turned around with a smile on her face.

"Brenda Leigh!" she called, raising one hand while keeping the other wrapped securely around the reigns of a large chestnut-colored horse.

"Morning," Brenda answered, opening the small metal gate to let herself into the paddock where Anna stood.

"Didn't expect to see you again," Anna said, and Brenda smiled sheepishly.

"I probably should have called," she said, even though it occurred to her that she didn't have Anna's number.

Anna waved her hand dismissively. "No need for that," she said, "You're always welcome at Tobacco Road."

Brenda could have hugged the woman in that moment.

"I appreciate that," she said sincerely.

Anna motioned for Brenda to follow her as she led the horse out of the paddock and down towards the stable.

"You wanna help out today?" Anna asked, and Brenda nodded fervently. "The farrier's coming to shoe the horses, and we could use an extra pair of hands."

···

The day passed in a flurry of activity and pleasant conversation. The farrier was a huge man with a thick beard who barely opened his mouth when he spoke, making his words nearly unintelligible. Anna Grace seemed to have no trouble understanding him, however, and often interpreted what he was saying to a very confused Brenda Leigh.

Brenda had never in her life worked as hard as she did that day, managing the horses and running equipment to and fro, but she had also never been quite as happy. Anna Grace expected much of the girl, giving her responsibility and watching to see how much she could take. Brenda found that she did not want to let the woman down. She had begun to live for Anna's smiles and infrequent compliments. Each smile was worth more to her than diamonds, and each compliment she treasured in her heart.

As the day passed, Brenda found herself more and more just watching Anna Grace. The curve of her cheek, the fullness of her lips, the strength in her hands, the skin of her lower back that revealed itself when she lifted her arms; Brenda stole furtive glances, memorizing every detail. She didn't ponder why Anna's body held her so enchanted; she simply drank in the sights presented to her.

The walk back to Darlene's in the dark that night seemed much longer than it had the day before. Each step carried her away from Anna Grace, and towards a vast emptiness that for Brenda had grown to represent her life before this chance meeting. It was with a heavy heart that she turned the doorknob and stepped into a cloud of Darlene's bitter complaining.

···

Aunt Darlene thought it strange that Brenda had volunteered to spend her sunny days down at Tobacco Road with _that woman_, but she was glad to have the teenager out of her hair. She made no move to keep Brenda at the house, but she also made no attempt to stem the flood of snide comments she had stockpiled concerning Anna Grace. Darlene thought her wild, rude, and unsophisticated, and she made her thoughts known.

Brenda couldn't have cared less.

Each day she rose early and made her way down to the farm. If she arrived early enough, she would sit in the farmhouse's yellow kitchen, drinking strong black coffee and planning the day ahead with Anna Grace.

At first she had found the coffee almost unpalatable, but Anna liked it that way, and Brenda persevered until she too enjoyed the taste. Anna paid her less now than she had that first day; the woman explained matter-of-factly that she had given Brenda extra because the girl looked sad and she thought they would never see each other again. If Brenda was going to work everyday, she was going to make the same money as all the other farm hands.

Brenda would gladly have paid Anna Grace for the opportunity to work beside her every day, and so accepted whatever Anna saw fit to give her without complaint.

The days turned into weeks, and, much to soon for Brenda's liking, June came to an end. There was much eager discussion about the festivities planned for the fourth of July. Moonshine and hotdogs and firewood rolled into Tobacco Road, and Jimmy went with a few of the younger men on a run to South Carolina to buy fireworks. Everyone who worked on the farm and their families all planned to attend, and Brenda felt she was about to burst from the excitement. It would be a daylong celebration lasting well into the night, and Jimmy had promised to slip Brenda Leigh some moonshine when Anna wasn't looking. Darlene was going to visit friends for the night, leaving Brenda to do as she wished, and the freedom that afforded the girl filled her with an unmistakable joy.

The day before the party when Brenda arrived, Anna Grace was sitting in one of the wooden rocking chairs on the porch, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. She offered a wave, and Brenda approached her with a smile on her face.

Anna motioned for her to sit, and she did, offering her thanks when Anna reached over and handed her a cup of coffee. The mug was ceramic and deep red, with a chip in the paint near the lip, and Brenda had begun to think of it as _her_ mug.

"What are we doing today?" Brenda asked, realizing as she spoke that her Georgia drawl had begun to fade in favor of the high-country lilt. The thought made her happy.

"Well, I've got to run up to Boone and meet with one of my distributers," Anna said. The woman paused to take a sip of coffee, allowing Brenda's heart a moment to expand in her chest as hope filled her. Anna was going up to the mountains, to the place Brenda had dreamed about since her first night in this town. Could it be that Anna wanted her company on the trip?

Anna was watching the girl out of the corner of her clear green eyes the way she sometimes did when she was waiting to see how Brenda would respond to a challenge. Brenda remained quiet, warring with herself. She wanted to ask if she could go, but she didn't want to impose upon Anna.

"Would you like to go?" Anna asked softly, and Brenda nearly jumped for joy.

"More than anything," she said emphatically, and Anna laughed.

"In the future, Brenda Leigh, if you want something, just ask for it. The things you want aren't just gonna fall in your lap." Her tone was good-natured, not admonishing, but Brenda couldn't help but feel that the advice Anna had just offered was more than just empty words. The things Anna wanted didn't just fall into her lap; she had worked for them. She expected the same of Brenda, and the girl wanted nothing more than to be like the dark-haired beauty who had so effectively enraptured her.

They remained on the porch together a while, sipping coffee and watching as the workers arrived for the day, turning Tobacco Road into a buzzing beehive of activity. Jimmy came wandering up the tractor path from the fields, heading for the porch, and Brenda wondered not for the first time where exactly the old man lived. He was always there when Brenda arrived in the mornings, even that one time she got there before the sun rose, and he always remained after she left. It had occurred to her that he might live with Anna Grace, but Brenda had never seen him enter the house.

"Mornin', Jimmy," Anna said, and he smiled.

"Mornin', Anna Grace, Brenda Leigh," he returned, nodding the way he so often did. "Y'all girls going up the mountain today?" he asked.

Brenda stared at him. Had Anna told him she was taking Brenda? Had she made up her mind before she ever even asked?

Next to her, Anna was still talking with Jimmy. "Yeah, probably leave here in the next few minutes. You ok to run things down here by yourself?"

Jimmy laughed. "I figure I'll just send everybody on home. Give 'em the day off. When the cat's away," he said, running his bandana over his sweat covered face.

"I bet they'd just love that. No one here to boss them around," Anna said with a smile, but there was something in her eyes, some sadness, that alarmed Brenda.

"Everyone here would be lost without you!" Brenda said passionately, more intensely than she had meant to, and she immediately blushed scarlet.

Anna cocked her head to the side as she stared at Brenda, looking for all the world as though she were trying to think of something to say. And Anna Grace was _never_ speechless.

···

The ride up to Boone would have taken an hour in an ordinary car, but in Anna Grace's beat-up Chevy truck, it took at least thirty minutes longer than it should have. Brenda Leigh, however, was in heaven, and she fervently wished the trip would never end.

The truck's windows were rolled down, letting the air blow Brenda's hair about in her face a curly blond tangle, sunshine warming her skin. She watched the land change, watched the hills give rise to mountains, the road rising up ahead of them like a great black ribbon, the wrapping on a present Brenda had wanted from the moment her feet had touched the ground in this place. The radio in Anna's truck only picked up one station, country, of course, and Brenda had learned the words to every song over the course of her time at Tobacco Road. She liked the sad ones; Willie Nelson singing _Always on my Mind, _Ronnie Milsap singing _He Got You, _and of course _I Will Always Love You_; but her favorite was _Dixieland Delight_. Nothing could have made this time more perfect, really. Anna Grace was sitting on the seat next to her, cussing the truck and cracking jokes and running her fingers through her perfect hair that never seemed to be out of place, even with the wind blowing.

The truck had gone quiet and Brenda was so caught up looking at the trees rising around her resplendent in their summer green that she almost didn't immediately realize it when Anna Grace began to sing along to the radio softly in that same low, smoky voice that warmed Brenda's heart every time she heard it.

"_Sometimes I wait when I really should go_," she sang, "_and Lord only knows what I do that for__, __and when I get home and he holds me close__, __I try not to think what I'm thinking most_." She stopped short, and Brenda couldn't help but pick up where she'd left off, singing along with the twangy woman on the radio, "_You're the first time I've thought about leaving, and I really don't know what I'll do; you're the first time I've thought about leaving him, I've never known someone like you_."

They finished the song together, and though her eyes were fixed determinedly on the road ahead, the slightest hint of a smile was tugging at Anna Grace's lips.

···

The distributor Anna needed to talk to turned out to be a portly man with a handlebar mustache and an unpleasant personal smell. There was a wad of dip tucked into his bottom lip, and he occasionally lifted the plastic cup in his hand so he could spit a stream of brown disgustingness into it while he talked. They met him in his warehouse, and he made no secret of the fact that he had absolutely no respect for the two of them.

"Now look here, girl," he said to Anna as they walked through the warehouse, "You're charging me too damn much. I know this is your business, but sweetheart you gotta remember that I worked with your daddy for years. We had a good thing going, me and him. And then you went and raised the rates! I know you've gotta make ends meet, honey, and I feel for you there, but I do, too, and I can't keep paying these prices. I'm gonna pay you what I paid your daddy, and not a cent more. And I'll tell you what else," he spit, then continued, "I'd be more than happy to take that farm off your hands. It's a lot of work for a pretty little thing like you, and I'll pay you twice what it's worth. What do you think about that?"

He stopped and hooked his thumbs through his belt loops, looking thoroughly proud of himself. Anna Grace, however, was wearing an expression that Brenda had only seen on her face a few times before, a stoic, impassive mask that could only mean trouble was coming. The teenager prudently took a step back, and just in time, too, for the second Brenda was out of the way Anna leaned back and smacked the potbellied man so hard across the cheek his dip flew out and landed with a spattering sound on the concrete floor of the warehouse.

"Now, you listen here, _boy_," Anna said as he rubbed a hand over his jaw, her voice low and calm as always, "You cheated my father for _years_ because he was sick and tired and old and didn't know any better. I was willing to overlook that because you've been a good partner, and I asked you to pay what everyone else pays. I'll be _damned_ if I'm gonna sit here and listen to you call me girl and try to talk me out of business. Tobacco Road is _mine_, and if you ever drag me all the way up here just so you can pull another stunt like this, you'll be eating through a straw for the rest of your life."

She spun on her heel and headed for the warehouse door, Brenda Leigh practically running to keep up, stunned by the display and the quiet danger in Anna's even voice.

Anna stopped with her hand on the doorknob and looked back over her shoulder at the distributor, whose lip was cracked and bleeding. "Thank you," she said, "Thank you so much."

···

Brenda had been walking on air for the rest of the afternoon, filled with a sort of pride for Anna Grace and the way she had stood up for herself without hesitation. It was almost as though Brenda herself had been victorious, she was so elated after the confrontation with the insufferable little man. Anna for her part had not gloated. She smiled tolerantly when Brenda spoke of her triumph, but she did admonish her when she felt Brenda was going on about it too much. "I'm not some comic book hero, Brenda Leigh," she'd said with a bemused sort of expression on her face, "I didn't save the day. I just did what's right."

"Well, I think you're a hero," Brenda told her, only realizing once the words were out just how childish they seemed. Anna Grace just kept looking at her like she'd never seen anything quite like Brenda Leigh ever before.

···

It was late when Anna's truck rolled up in front of Darlene's home, and through the curtains on the windows all Brenda could see was darkness inside. She so badly didn't want to get out of that truck, to end the glorious adventure that had been her day, but she knew that she had to. She said goodnight to Anna and slid out of the truck, closing the door with a rusty creak behind her. She was halfway to the front door when she heard Anna call her name.

Brenda wheeled around, heart in her throat. She wasn't sure why, exactly, but she felt suddenly like the heroine in one of the books on Darlene's shelves. Her mind raced as she wondered what Anna had to say, but she also tried to remind herself not to be ridiculous. It was probably something about the farm, or the party the next night.

"I got you something," Anna said, climbing out of the truck and reaching behind the front seat to pull out a thin package wrapped in brown paper. "I bought this in that record shop while you weren't looking. I hope you like it," she said, walking over to where Brenda stood rooted to the ground.

Brenda reached out and took the record from her, sliding it gently out of its paper cover. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes; she couldn't help it.

"_You're the First Time I've Thought About Leaving,"_ she said, staring at the record in wonder.

Anna shrugged, looking uncomfortable with the girl's sudden display of emotion. "I thought you'd like it," she said, sticking her hands awkwardly in her pockets.

Anna had remembered. They had sung that song together in the truck and Anna had remembered and Anna had bought her the record when she wasn't looking.

Brenda couldn't stop herself; she threw her arms around Anna Grace's neck, careful not to damage her new record, and kissed the older woman on the cheek. Anna tensed for a moment, but then relaxed and hugged the girl back.

"I just wanted to thank you for today," Anna said in her ear. "I'm glad you were there."

Brenda couldn't recall a time in her life when she'd been happier. She did realize, however, that she couldn't stand there hugging Anna Grace all night, no matter how much she might like to, and so she made to pull away.

Something happened then that she was not expecting.

It was the kind of dark that isn't dark at all, the moonlight and the stars casting a silver glow through the leaves of the trees, lightning bugs dancing in the air and cicadas singing all around them. Anna's arms were slung low across Brenda's back and her face was barely inches from the girl's, and Brenda found that the last thing she wanted was to step away. If anything she wanted to draw closer, to feel Anna's arms tight around her, to listen to their hearts beat together. It scared her, this need to be close to Anna Grace; she had never felt this way about _anyone_, not even the boys she'd dated, and she didn't know how to explain it.

And then Anna Grace took a deep breath, leaned across the space between them, and kissed her full on the lips.

It wasn't a quick peck like the one Brenda had left on her cheek, either. It was a real kiss, long and slow, and Brenda had kissed boys before and she figured she knew where this was going. She felt like she'd been struck by lightning; she was terrified that at any second Anna Grace might come to her senses and pull away, she was confused (after all, she'd never kissed another girl before, where the hell had all these _feelings_ come from?) and she desperately wanted to know what Anna Grace tasted like.

Anna seemed to have read her mind, because Brenda could feel the woman's lips part beneath hers, could feel the brush of her tongue against her lips and Brenda obliged. The feeling was electric and Brenda shivered as their tongues tangled, as Anna's hands slid down her back to rest on her waist.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, the kiss was over.

Anna practically leapt away from her, gasping and staring at her in something akin to horror.

"A-Anna?" Brenda asked, hating the way her words stuttered, the fear that Anna didn't feel _that _way about her now back with a vengeance.

Anna Grace ran her fingers through her perfect hair, and her face assumed a calm, unreadable expression not unlike the one Brenda Leigh had seen just before Anna slapped the fat man with the mustache.

"Go to sleep now, Brenda Leigh," Anna said finally, offering the saddest of smiles before walking back and climbing inside her truck. Anna started the truck, but waited until Brenda was safely inside before driving off.

Brenda found sleep elusive for most of that night, and when she finally drifted off it was to the sound of a twangy country song and the memory of a soft body, warm against her own.


	4. Chapter 4

_That summer wind was all around me  
>Nothing between us but the night<br>When I told her that I'd never  
>She softly whispered that's alright<br>And then I watched her hands of leather  
>Turn to velvet in a touch<br>There's never been another summer  
>When I have ever learned so much.<br>-"That Summer", Garth Brooks_

_···_

Brenda woke late the next morning, feeling more drained after a few fitful hours' sleep than she had before she lay down. Her mind was abuzz, memories of the night before and Anna Grace's kiss making her almost dizzy. Had that really happened? She'd thought about it before, about what the older woman's lips might feel like pressed against her own, how comforting it might be to reach out and twine her slender fingers with Anna Grace's work-calloused ones. That such a thing might actually happen had seemed too much to hope for, but then it had, and Brenda found herself utterly lost, a ship without a rudder.

Her mind kept going back to the look on Anna Grace's face. Anna rarely let her emotions show so plainly, but for the briefest of instants Brenda had seen horror there. Was she really so awful? Could Anna really be so disgusted with what they'd done? It had been Anna who initiated the kiss, after all. Brenda had only meant to hug her, to thank her for the record and all the other gifts that had come before it, for the salvation Anna Grace had offered her and the safe haven of Tobacco Road. And then Anna Grace had leaned across the space between them and burned up Brenda's whole word with the wildfire of her kiss.

Brenda rose finally, dressing carefully in the full morning light. Darlene had already left, for three glorious days. Before the kiss, those three days had held the promise of freedom, of time to spend with Anna Grace and no one else. Now they loomed before her, three days to spend wondering and worrying about what she'd done without even the bitter complaining of her aunt to distract her.

Blue jeans and tank top on, her bandana (a gift from Jimmy) firmly lodged in her back pocket, Brenda set off for Tobacco Toad with apprehension in her heart.

···

When Brenda arrived, the party was just getting started. Long tables had been set up in front of the house, loaded down with food, and a small plastic pool had been blown up, a leaking hose filling it slowly as a horde of small children eagerly waited for the chance to jump in. The boys were gathering chairs, pulling them out of the beds of pickup trucks and the building Anna Grace used for storage. Watermelons were being cut and music was coming from somewhere, but Brenda couldn't have cared less. She longed to see Anna Grace, but the woman was nowhere in sight.

Jimmy hailed her with a friendly wave and a shout of her name. She ran to him, her heart in her throat.

"Where's Anna?" She demanded, immediately feeling guilty for how short she was with him as he stared back at her.

"She's gone," he answered with a shrug. Brenda's heart sank.

"Gone?" she echoed faintly, and he nodded.

"She called me last night, said she was going and she needed me to look after the place."

"Well, where did she go?" Brenda was trying her best not to cry.

"I don't know."

"When is she coming back?"

Jimmy was staring at her, clearly confused by her distress. "I don't know, Brenda Leigh. She's just gone."

One of the tears Brenda had been trying to hold back slid down her check, getting lost in the thin tracks of sweat there.

"I don't understand," she said softly, her voice sounding as broken as she felt. "It's just not like her."

Jimmy smiled sadly. "Oh, Brenda Leigh, this is _exactly_ like her."

The old man led the girl up to the front porch with a gentle hand on her elbow. She collapsed into one of the rocking chairs, and he sat down beside her with a sigh.

"I've known Anna Grace since she was a girl, younger than you," Jimmy said, his melancholic tone seeming oddly out of place with the joyous preparations in the yard beyond. "She's been running her whole life. Anna Grace left Tobacco Road when she was sixteen years old and she didn't set foot back here until her daddy died. And then she stayed, but not because she'd changed her ways. Oh no, she's still the same old Anna Grace, still running. Running away from what happened to Ray, away from her responsibilities. Did you know she has a son?"

Brenda stared back at him, dumbfounded. A son? Anna had a son? Brenda had never seen him, and Anna had never said a word about him.

Jimmy took her silence as an answer. "His name's Ray Junior. He's a good kid. He'll be twenty this year. In the Army, just like his daddy. And to tell you the truth, I think Anna was hiding all this time, from her fears and her family. I don't know where she's gone, but I hope it's to see her boy. She's got a lot to atone for."

The sunlight slanting through the tree-lined yard seemed to be mocking Brenda's pain with its cheerfulness. Anna Grace had a son, a son older than Brenda herself. Anna had left. Anna would never love Brenda the way she wanted- needed- her to.

Love.

The realization had come to Brenda at some point during the long, difficult night. Brenda loved Anna Grace, and she wanted nothing so much as to be loved in return. The thoughts of it had consumed her even before she knew what to call them, and giving them a name had only made them worse.

"What about me?" Brenda asked sadly, shocked that she'd actually spoken the words aloud.

Jimmy for his part didn't seem surprised at all. His cloudy blue eyes saw a lot more than anyone ever gave him credit for.

"You'll be all right, Brenda Leigh," he told her. "We'll have a party, and you'll forget your troubles, and in a few weeks you'll be back home where you belong and Tobacco Road will be nothing but a memory."

Brenda really did cry then, burying her face in her hands, and Jimmy laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. It was the smallest measure of comfort, but it was the only comfort available to her, and she was grateful for it.

Anna Grace was gone.

···

By the time the sun went down, the children were huddled sleepily in the truck beds and everyone was at least half drunk. The bonfire burned vigorously, the moonshine was running dangerously low, and the ice in the beer coolers had all melted. Brenda was sitting alone on the steps of the front porch, a Mason jar of moonshine clutched in her hands as the fireworks started up.

The first explosion of color seemed to reenergize the children, who leapt to their feet, grabbing sparklers and dancing barefoot in the grass. The night rang with laughter and the sounds of popping fireworks, the sky a blaze of color and light.

The spectacle soothed Brenda Leigh somewhat, though her heard still ached. As lights flared above her, she thought of the lightning rod of Anna's kiss, the feel of the woman's lips on her own, her hands on her waist. Brenda dearly wished she'd had more than just that one kiss, that she'd taken every other opportunity she'd had when she and Anna Grace were alone. She wondered if Anna would have stayed if she'd kissed her sooner.

_Probably not,_ she thought miserably. It was her kiss that had sent Anna running, it was her kiss that scared the woman badly enough to send her away from Tobacco Road. Brenda took a sip of the clear liquid, noticing the hint of peach behind the burn. No one had noticed her stealing the jar in the first place, and no one noticed her now.

She kept on drinking, and the fireworks kept dancing until she felt dizzy. She must have looked just as bad off as she was, because suddenly Jimmy was there. With his help she lurched to her feet, and he led her inside the house. She thought of the deep, soft couch in the living room and smiled faintly, but Jimmy led her away, up the stairs, each step a struggle. She found herself in a room she'd never seen before, and somewhere in the back of her mind Brenda realized it must have been Anna's bedroom, but she was almost too exhausted to care. She flopped onto the bed and Jimmy smiled. He pulled the blanked up over her and brushed a curl out of her face affectionately.

"Get some sleep, little girl," he told her, and Brenda closed her eyes, body already obeying his command. "You'll feel better in the morning."

She was already asleep.

···

Brenda woke in the darkness with a pounding headache and a powerful need to use the bathroom. She stumbled around until she finally found it, and when she was done she splashed water on her face, straightening up to stare at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a tangled mess, her fair skin tan and ruddy from days in the sun and the heat. She had developed calluses on her hands, just like Anna Grace.

_Who is this girl? _She wondered, _this girl who goes around kissing grown women and pretending to work on a tobacco farm?_ She didn't look like herself. Tobacco Road had changed her, inside and out. She rubbed her eyes, as if to rid them of the image and headed back to bed.

She stripped off her dirty blue jeans and tossed them aside, slipping her bra off and dropping it on top of them before curling up under Anna's sheets once again. She fell asleep with her face pressed against the pillow, the scent of Anna Grace's hair comforting her more than it should have.

She was roused sometime later by the soft touch of a hand against her face. She opened her eyes, blinking against the darkness to find an angel in a white tank top perched on the bed beside her.

"Anna?" she asked hopefully, voice thick with sleep, trying to focus on the overwhelming joy that filled her and to ignore the fear that lurked just behind it. Would Anna be angry to find her sleeping in her bed? Would Anna kick her out?

"Hey, Brenda Leigh," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

The tears were back in the corners of Brenda's eyes, all the heartache of the day and night before washing over her combined with the relief of seeing Anna again.

"You came back."

Her face must have betrayed how hurt she felt, because Anna reached out and ran a soothing over her hair, still smiling that same sad smile.

"I had to get away for a little while," Anna explained, her fingers lingering in the silky strands of Brenda's hair, "but I couldn't stay away."

_I couldn't stay away._ Was it possible? Could it be that Anna cared as much as Brenda did? Brenda felt she couldn't take too much more of this, the doubt, the back and forth. She needed to know. She sat up in the bed, Anna's hand slipping out of her hair to rest in the older woman's lap.

"I'm so sorry, Brenda Leigh," Anna told her, staring down at the floor. "I never should have done that."

"I wanted you to," Brenda confessed, her brown eyes searching until finally they caught Anna's gaze.

"But why? Honey, you could do so much better than me. You deserve so much better than me. I'm old enough to be your-"

Brenda didn't let her finish the sentence; she knew somehow that if she let Anna keep talking the older woman would end whatever was between them before it ever truly got started, and Brenda couldn't let her go without kissing her at least one more time. With more boldness than she actually felt she caught her fingers in Anna's thick, dark hair and pulled the older woman to her, their lips crashing together before either of them had a chance to think better of it.

Anna didn't pull away like Brenda thought she would; instead the older woman hesitated for a moment, her lips still against Brenda's, and the girl thought she could feel the wheels in Anna's head turning as she agonized over what would happen next. And then quick as a flash, Anna made up her mind, her tongue snaking out to taste Brenda's lips as her hand moved from her lap up to gently cup Brenda's face. Brenda opened to her, wanting to draw her in, to hold her as close as possible. It was hard in this position, Brenda sitting up under the covers and Anna perched just next to her, but the older woman felt even better pressed up against her now than she had the night before, and Brenda was loath to move.

"We can't," Anna whispered, breaking away with a gasp, resting her forehead against Brenda's.

It felt as though every inch of Brenda's body was on fire, begging for Anna, for her touch, her kiss, the soft sound of her voice, the feeling of her hair in Brenda's hands, every part of her, and Brenda couldn't let her stop, not now. She'd never felt this kind of urgent need before, and she didn't know what to do next. Something, anything, to keep Anna from standing up and walking away from her. She felt as if she'd die if Anna left her again.

"Yes we can," she whispered, reaching down and taking hold of the hand that still rested in Anna's lap, linking their fingers together.

"You can't possibly want _me_," Anna said, and there was a brokenness in her voice, a sorrow that spoke volumes. Anna believed what she was saying; somewhere along the way Anna Grace had started to believe she was the Widow Robinson, and had forgotten just how much more than that she really was.

Brenda was going to show her.

"I think you're perfect," Brenda told her, their foreheads still touching, fingers still clasped together in Anna's lap, "And I want you, more than anything."

Anna lifted their joined hands to her lips, lightly kissing the back of Brenda's hand, and leaned back slightly, smiling.

She was absolutely lovely when she smiled, brighter than the mocking sun, more joyful than all the fireworks, warmer than the heat in the fields where Brenda worked in the late afternoon; she was so much more than this place, so much bigger, so much better. Anna Grace was a world unto herself, and Brenda wanted to take up permanent residence there.

It was Anna who kissed her this time, pulling her close; Brenda rose up on her knees, following Anna's movements until it was the older woman leaning back against the headboard instead of the girl. Brenda shifted, straddling her, feeling Anna's smile under their kiss, a hint of sweetness after the bitterness of the day before.

She was actually doing it, she was actually in Anna Grace's bed, kissing her, feeling her; Brenda could touch any part of Anna Grace she wanted, could hold her, could feel her warmth for as long as she wanted. _This must be love,_ she thought, _to want something so much that it breaks you when it's gone and puts you back to together when you have it. _

Anna's hands were on Brenda's hips, and Brenda longed for her to move them, to feel the gentle touch of Anna's fingers against her skin; her pants were already off, discarded by the bed when she woke earlier in the night, and she could feel the roughness of Anna Grace's blue jeans under the sensitive skin of her thighs every time she moved.

The need to breathe began to outstrip Brenda's need to kiss Anna Grace and she broke away with a gasp; Anna for her part continued to kiss, her lips mapping a path down the slope of Brenda's neck. Brenda had never gotten quite this level of attention before; she had always been a skinny thing, all knees and elbows, absurdly clumsy, and though she had recently grown out of that phase, she was still just a slip of a girl with no hips to speak of and breasts she was better at hiding than showing off. Anna Grace didn't seem to care; there was the electric spark of her lips against Brenda's skin to remind her that Anna Grace wanted her just as badly as she herself wanted the woman.

Anna's fingers shifted their hold on Brenda's hips, sliding just underneath the hem of her shirt, resting lightly on her skin, lighting Brenda on fire.

"Please," Brenda gasped into Anna's hair, her hands holding the woman's face against her neck, as close as she could be. Brenda had absolutely no idea what she was asking for, but she trusted that Anna would.

Anna did.

With gentle hands she lifted the hem of Brenda's shirt, pulling it easily up and over the girl's head, blonde curls cascading down around her shoulders in its wake. For a moment Brenda had to fight the urge to cover herself, to hide from the fierceness of Anna's gaze as she straddled the woman's hips, almost fully naked in front of her.

"You're so lovely, do you know that?" Anna said quietly before her lips returned to Brenda's skin, mapping a wet trail down across her collarbones. Brenda shivered, thrusting her hips down against Anna without even realizing it, her fingers tangling in the woman's hair.

And as good as it felt, it wasn't enough, because Anna was still fully clothed underneath her, most of her glorious skin covered by cloth and the darkness. "Please," Brenda said again, certain of what she wanted this time, "I want to see you." Her hands slid away from Anna's head, down towards her shirt, grabbing as much of it as she could reach in clumsy fistfuls. Anna seemed even more reticent to reveal herself than Brenda had been, but she shifted, helping Brenda pull the shirt up and off, revealing the simple white cotton sports bra she wore underneath and the crisscross patterns of old scars marking the warmth of her skin in cold, white lines.

Anna rolled them easily, pinning Brenda underneath her with an easy smile and a jean-clad thigh thrust between her legs, and Brenda moaned as she arched up, aching for her. She slid her hands along the smoothness of Anna's sides, feeling her skin gliding under her hands, the sensation exactly as amazing as she always thought it would be, and more. If Anna's kiss had been lightning then touching her skin was falling off a cliff, leaving the rest of the world behind as Brenda lost herself in nothing but the feel of skin and the throbbing of her almost-bare sex against Anna's leg.

For the most part Anna had left her breasts alone, and there was a small nagging voice in the back of Brenda's mind that couldn't help but wonder if perhaps Anna didn't like them, but then the woman's hands were on her, gently circling her nipples, tugging on the rosy buds and pulling small, satisfied sounds out of Brenda. Funny how Anna's rough, work-hardened hands felt like silk against her skin, reaching her in a way that no one's touch ever had before.

Brenda was getting the hang of this whole thing, and found the courage to make another move, this time sliding her hands along Anna's ribs until she reached the edge of the bra, tugging on it until Anna laughed and helped her pull it off. She was resplendent, dark hair tumbling in easy waves as she smiled, the tips of her nipples dragging against Brenda's chest, the feeling driving her nearly wild with want.

She had her mouth open to say _please_ again, but Anna was one step ahead of her, sliding a hand away from her breasts and towards the waist of her panties even as she leaned forward and captured Brenda's lips in a searing, heart-wrenching kiss. Every touch of her hand, every kiss, every sound she made convinced Brenda more and more that she loved this dark-haired angel, and maybe, just maybe, Anna loved her, too.

Anna tugged her panties off, hands trailing paths of fire along the lines of Brenda's legs; Brenda wondered if they should be talking more, if there was anything to say, and as Anna's hands trailed back up her legs to her embarrassingly wet center, Brenda realized there was in fact something she needed to say.

"A-Anna," she stammered, "wait, I have to," she gasped as she felt velvet-soft fingers brush her folds, "I have to tell you-"

"What?" Anna asked, catching her lip between her teeth, her expression apprehensive as she leaned over the girl with her hand between her legs and her heart on her sleeve.

"I…I've never…" her voice trailed off, her face flushing redder than ever before, and Anna just smiled. She leaned forward, kissing Brenda gently at the corner of her mouth.

"That's all right," she answered, and Brenda believed her. Brenda always believed her.

Anna's gentle fingers were running easy circles around Brenda's clit, and the feeling was unlike any she'd ever known before. She gasped and lifted her hips, chasing after the sensation of Anna's fingers against her, wanting more, and once again, Anna anticipated her, easing one finger inside her warmth, bit by bit, until Brenda could feel the woman inside her, against her, on top of her, and deliriously Brenda thought that as soon as they were done, she was going to flip them over and fuck Anna until she screamed, just to thank her for this.

Anna added a finger and pressed down against her clit, eyes never leaving her face, watching as Brenda flew apart against her hand, shaking and gasping, tears in the corners of her eyes.

Never before in her life had Brenda ever felt anything like this, like her whole world had been shattered and put back together in a single instant, and she had no one to thank for it but Anna Grace, whose fingers were still buried inside her.

Brenda thought about saying _please_ again but she didn't; instead she laid back, enjoying the feeling as Anna dropped soothing kisses across her neck until she had gathered her wits enough to flip them over.

The older woman laughed, a rich, earthy sound that turned Brenda's insides to mush. Brenda took the opportunity to run her hands all over the woman's skin, but she quickly found herself distracted by the rounded swells of her breasts, and paused to enjoy them. She didn't know what she was supposed to do with them, exactly; she remembered how good it had felt when Anna had touched her and she tried to do the same things, but she quickly realized it wasn't enough. She leaned forward from her vantage point atop the older woman, wrapped her lips around one of her nipples, and sucked the tender bud into her mouth.

That did the trick, apparently, as Anna's hips bucked up underneath her and the woman's fingers rose to tangle in her hair.

"Brenda, honey," she said, panting slightly, "you don't have to- I mean I don't want you to feel like-"

"I want to touch you," Brenda breathed the words against her breast, "I want to see you, and feel you, and taste your skin." She kissed a trail across to the other breast, running her hands down the woman's torso until they encountered the waistband of her jeans. "I want _you,"_ she said, "I've wanted you since the first day we met, I just didn't know that's what it was."

She unbuttoned the jeans, tugged the zipper down, and without any further ado shoved her hand straight into Anna's lacy panties.

Brenda could feel all the warmth and wet against her hand, and her eyes went wide as dinner plates when Anna moaned and thrust her hips toward the girl.

"I want to see you," Brenda whispered and Anna could only make an unintelligible sound of affirmation in response.

The girl shifted away until she was kneeling between Anna's legs, lifting them and sliding the jeans and panties down together until she finally tugged them off one elegant foot to land with a soft sound near Brenda's own pants on the floor. She adjusted Anna's legs to her own liking and leaned forward, fingers inching back towards Anna's folds. She had a vague inkling of what she was supposed to do next, and by God she was going to do the best she possibly could.

She thrust two slender fingers inside the wet sheath of Anna's sex at the same time she bit down none too gently on the curve of the woman's breast, drawing her flesh into her mouth, and Anna made a sound that was almost, but not quite, a scream. Her fingers dug bruises into Brenda's hips, but she made no move to get away, bucking her hips and writhing under Brenda's touch.

A steady stream of cursing encouragements dribbled from Anna Grace's lips as Brenda searched for the small nub of her clit, and when she found it, Anna actually did scream, clutching Brenda to her with hands and the soft muscles of her sex, drawing her in, refusing to let her go.

They lingered like that a while, touching, kissing, not speaking as the early morning sun rose behind the curtains neither of them had taken the time to close. They finally drifted off to sleep, Brenda safe and warm in the cocoon of Anna's arms and the knowledge that the woman loved her, too, even if she hadn't said it yet.

···

When they woke it was to the sound of people working outside the window, clearing away the debris of the day before, but neither of them was willing to rise just yet. The world beyond could wait; the world they'd made in Anna's bed was soft and warm and that was right where they stayed. Brenda was draped across Anna's chest, drawing patterns across her skin and kissing her when she felt like it, listening to Anna tell stories of all the places she'd been and all the amazing things she'd seen, and Brenda couldn't help but think how amazing her Anna Grace was, and how lucky she was to have the woman in her life.


	5. Chapter 5

_She had a need to feel the thunder  
>To chase the lightning from the sky<br>To watch the storm with all its wonder  
>Raging in her lover's eyes<br>She had to ride the heat of passion  
>Like a comet burning bright<br>Rushing headlong in the wind  
>Out where only dreams have been<br>Burning both ends of the night  
>-"That Summer," Garth Brooks<em>

_···_

The midmorning sun glinted off Anna's thick hair, turning the fine strands a glimmering shade of amber. Brenda smiled faintly at the sight, her lips resting against the smooth skin of her lover's bare shoulder. _This must be what happiness feels like_, she thought.

It was a Sunday morning and the farm beyond Anna's window was peaceful, calm and quiet. Almost heavenly. It had been two weeks since that first glorious night, and the pair of them had taken every opportunity to be together. When they walked the farm alone they held hands, and when the chance presented itself they stole into the hallowed privacy of Anna's home, kissing and touching for as long as they could. They were almost childlike in their devotion to one another, but if anyone noticed their repeated absences, they never said a word.

She'd asked Darlene's permission to stay the night, and though the woman seemed confused by the request, her aunt had granted it. Brenda rejoiced in the chance to spend a whole blessed, uninterrupted night in the arms of the woman who had become Brenda's whole world. Anna's smile was her sun, Anna's kisses her oxygen. She had forgotten how to live without the dark-haired woman, and in her euphoria she had also forgotten that one day she would have to.

But not today. Today she had hours upon hours to spend with Anna Grace, and she was already hatching a plan that would keep her at Tobacco Road for another night.

Brenda's stomach grumbled, and Anna Grace laughed, kissing her forehead affectionately.

"Come on," she said, giving the girl a gentle squeeze, "Let me make you breakfast."

Brenda had never known a better cook than Anna Grace, and so she gladly agreed.

Anna slipped on the robe she kept by the bedside, and Brenda briefly lamented loosing sight of the expanse of Anna's bare skin before sliding out of bed herself. She found her underwear and tank top, pulling them on quickly and following after Anna.

The kitchen was awash in warm yellow sun, the light no longer seeming to mock Brenda Leigh but instead to welcome her, an old friend. Brenda turned on the radio and began to make coffee, watching Anna Grace cracking eggs into a pan with a smile on her face. How easy this was, how simple, to build a life together. Brenda briefly entertained the notion of how a life with Anna Grace could be. Waking every morning to the feel of a warm body next to her, a quiet breakfast and a day of hard work before a night when she was allowed to touch and be touched as much as she wished. How perfect that seemed.

"What would you like to do today?" Anna asked as they sat down to eat, her voice breaking the stillness pleasantly. Anna's left hand rested gently on Brenda's thigh, and the possessiveness of the gesture did not escape the girl's notice. What a joy it was, to belong to Anna Grace, to know that Anna belonged to her. They were a matched set, neither whole without the other, and Brenda found herself untroubled by how quickly it had happened. Fate, she thought, moves in its time.

"Could we go somewhere?" Brenda asked, thinking of the day they'd spent in Boone. "Somewhere in the mountains?"

Anna chewed her eggs thoughtfully, giving Brenda's leg a little squeeze.

"Why don't we go to Wilson's Creek?" Anna suggested. "The water's cold, and I know a place where no one else will see us."

"That sounds perfect," Brenda said, covering Anna's hand with her own, twining their fingers together. They finished breakfast in a companionable silence, the sound of their forks and the low hum of the radio creating a symphony of easy peace.

···

The drive to Wilson's Creek was an hour through some of the prettiest country Brenda had ever seen. The winding road took them through Pisgah National Forest, the trees tall and green and thick on either side. Anna held Brenda's hand as they drove, talking and laughing as the wind blew through the open windows and tousled their hair. They'd stopped at Darlene's house on the way out of town to grab Brenda's swimsuit, grateful to find the house empty. Brenda had grown tired of explaining herself to her unpleasant aunt. Now the girl rode in the truck in blue jean shorts over her bikini, having foregone her tank top in favor of the lustful looks Anna threw her way when she went without it. She felt freer than she ever had before, and she prayed this day would never end.

Anna turned the truck off the paved road and onto a winding gravel track. The water ran clear as glass at the bottom of the hill on their left, and as they followed the path up into the hills they passed the occasional grouping of cars, people sitting with their feet in the water and cans of beer in their hands. The longer they drove the fewer people they saw, until Anna suddenly turned the truck, barreling through what appeared to be a solid wall of brush. Brenda held her breath until they pushed through to the other side.

The land dropped off sharply in front of them, a huge smooth rock face leading down into a deep pool, edged in rocks. Off to one side the creek (which was really just a small section of a larger river) ran over the rocks in a miniature waterfall, no more than five feet high. The sun shone brightly on their side of the water. For a moment Brenda stared at the sheer drop of the rock face in apprehension, but Anna noticed her reticence and smiled, leaning across the space between them to take Brenda's lips in a gentle kiss.

"Don't worry," she said, "there's a path down to the water. It'll be fun." She was grinning now.

Anna had changed in the time they'd been together. She seemed brighter, she laughed more often, and that stoic mask she used to cover her emotions had been mercifully absent. Brenda had almost forgotten that there had been a time when she couldn't tell exactly what her Anna Grace was thinking from just the expression on her face.

They had packed a picnic lunch, and Anna lifted the basket out of the truck bed as Brenda stepped out in the light. It was hot, but up here under the trees the heat was bearable. She was sweating, but the feeling was more pleasant than uncomfortable, and Brenda reveled in the warmth that filled her as she carefully followed Anna away from the truck and towards the well-disguised path that led down to the pool below.

Her flip-flops were not the best choice for this expedition, but her tennis shoes would have been even worse, and so she put up with a modicum of slipping and sliding, moving as carefully as she could.

They decided lunch could wait, and so they left the basket by the edge of the water with Brenda's shorts and Anna's blue sundress. Brenda watched in rapt fascination as the older woman pulled the fabric and over her head, revealing the simple black suit she wore underneath. No bikini for Anna, and though Brenda thought the older woman would wear a two-piece well, she had to admit this suit did her justice. Her breasts strained against the neckline, her stomach smooth and toned under the lightweight material.

And it afforded Brenda the opportunity to ogle Anna's mile-long legs. The blue jeans she usually wore hinted at the perfection of those limbs, but once Brenda had seen them for herself she decided it was a shame that Anna ever wore pants at all. Brenda had never been one to stare, even at people she found attractive, but after she'd run her hands along the length of those legs, felt the strong muscles tighten around her as she pushed Anna to screaming climax, she found she could not keep her eyes off them. She noticed other people staring, too, gazes lingering too long on Anna's ass or the curve of her thighs, and Brenda felt the insane urge to slap the wandering eyes away, to declare in no uncertain terms, "that's _mine._" She didn't think Anna would like that very much, however, and so she resisted temptation.

Ready to go now, they ran into the water, gasping and giggling like schoolgirls as the cold chill of the water enveloped them. Anna ducked beneath the smooth glass of the surface, her dark hair fanning out behind her as she swam, strong limbs propelling her with little effort. Brenda stood waist deep in the water, feeling the sun on her face, listening to the calls of the birds and wondering at the miracle of this place, far away from parents and cities and bitching aunts, a place where Brenda Leigh and Anna Grace could just be, and the worries of the world beyond faded into nothingness.

Without warning, Anna Grace rose up behind Brenda, splashing her with water and giggling at the girl's surprised shriek.

Brenda spun and dragged the woman under the water, the sounds of their laughter suddenly cut short until they emerged again, tangled together and gasping.

Anna's lips found hers with little difficulty, and Brenda wrapped her arms around the other woman, hands coming to rest on the firm swell of her ass and drawing their hips together as close as they could go. She had never touched another person the way she touched Anna Grace, and though in the beginning she had been anxious, worried that she couldn't please her lover, her fears had long since been forgotten. Anna wasn't afraid to say what she needed, and Brenda had found that sometimes, all she needed was the touch of the girl's hand.

For her part, Anna's hands were traveling up the expanse of Brenda's back, catching hold of the ties around Brenda's neck and pulling gently until the top came loose. The fabric floated down in the water, and Anna's hands came around to knead Brenda's breasts, her nipples hardened from the chill of the water and the heat of her arousal. The touch of Anna's hand was enough to send sparks up and down her spine, but now, with Anna's tongue in her mouth and the heat of her thigh pressed against Brenda's center, the girl felt as though she would fly apart on the spot. Being loved by Anna Grace had given her wings.

Brenda broke from their kiss with a gasp, her lips leaving the safe haven of Anna's mouth to travel the length of her neck, down the V of skin revealed by the plunging neckline of her bathing suit. Brenda cursed the fabric between them but it seemed to be too much work to try to take it off.

She felt Anna pushing her backwards, and moved with her in an odd little dance as Brenda refused to move her mouth from Anna's skin and Anna refused to release her hold on Brenda's breasts. Suddenly the girl felt the warmth of the rock face behind her and Anna's gentle hands on her hips pushing her up to lie flat on the rock, the sun in her face. For a moment Brenda thought Anna would follow her up, but she didn't, opting instead to stay where she was, her fingers toying with the edge of Brenda's bikini bottoms and clearly trying to make up her mind. Anna cast a surveying glance at the road above them, and, satisfied that they were alone, rolled the damp swimsuit down Brenda's skin. She threw the sodden cloth up onto the rock, where it landed beside Brenda with a wet smack, and eased the girl's legs apart with a tender hand on each of her knees. Brenda shuddered with want as Anna ran her hands along the sensitive skin on the inside of her legs until her fingers reached the warmth of Brenda's center. Brenda gasped; Anna's hands were cold from the water, but her touch sent a current of heat up through the girl.

Anna did something then that Brenda did not expect; she leaned forward, the warmth of her breath ghosting across Brenda's flesh the only warning before her tongue reached out, tasting Brenda. The girl's hips bucked up against her mouth and Brenda whimpered, but hand held her firmly in place with hands on her hips. Anna was relentless, her tongue thrusting as deep inside Brenda's folds as it would, and Brenda was deliriously grateful that no one was around to hear her cries of pleasure. Brenda kept her hands flat on the rock, holding herself in place as she raised her hips to meet each thrust of Anna's tongue, writhing under the new sensation. Fairly sure that Brenda wouldn't slide off the rock, Anna moved one of her hands away from Brenda's hips, replacing her tongue with her finger as her lips wrapped around the girl's clit. She held it there, laving the little nub with her tongue as her fingers pistoned inside Brenda until the girl was coming, shaking, clenching her muscles around Anna's fingers and crying out her name.

When her trembling had subsided Anna helped her back into her swim suit, easing her back into the water and trying the knot of her swimsuit around her neck again.

"I love you," she breathed quietly into the damp skin of Brenda's shoulder, leaving a kiss there for good measure.

Brenda felt the prick of tears in her eyes. She'd longed to hear those words from Anna Grace, and hearing them now evoked more emotion in her than she was prepared for.

She spun in Anna's arms so that they were standing face to face, and she stared into Anna's clear green eyes as she said, "I love you, too," wishing there was a better way to say everything she felt. She closed the space between them, losing herself in the warmth of Anna's kiss and the taste of herself on the woman's lips.

···

They stayed there all day, splashing and laughing, lying back on the rock and napping briefly in the sun, but as evening fell, Anna declared that it was time to go home. She wrapped Brenda in a towel, running a hand over the girl's tangled hair fondly before they piled in the truck and headed for home.

_Home._

Home for Brenda Leigh had become the white farmhouse with its yellow kitchen, the big barn leaning just a little, the smell of tobacco and hay floating pleasantly on the breeze. Atlanta seemed far away, a place Brenda had only heard about in stories. Her life there no more than a fuzzy memory, and her mind drifted towards it less and less as the time passed.

Anna suggested that it would be best if Brenda spent the night at Darlene's to avoid her aunt's questions and Brenda agreed. Anna dropped her off with a sad smile, leaning over the seat, risking no more than a chaste peck on her cheek. She watched as Brenda crossed the yard, and waited until Brenda was safely inside before she pulled away.

Brenda's hair was still damp and she carried her tank top in her hand, thinking to herself as she meandered down the hall that not even her aunt's usual bitterness could bring her down from the pleasant high Anna had created.

She was wrong.

"Brenda Leigh!" her aunt called from the kitchen, and Brenda followed the sound of her voice, still smiling.

Darlene was not smiling. She was downright glowering.

"Where in the hell have you been?" she demanded, and Brenda leaned in the doorway, worrying her shirt between her fingers.

"I was with Anna Grace," she said defensively, not wanting to offer up any more information than that. This day was sacred, and it only belonged to the two of them. Brenda was loath to share it.

"I've been calling over there all day. You've gotta get your things packed, little girl. You're flying home in the morning."

Brenda felt as though her chest had caved in, her had heart splattered on the floor; she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Could barely speak as the words sputtered out of her, "B-but I wasn't supposed to leave yet-"

Darlene cut her off. "Your mama called me this morning. Told me she changed your ticket, she was ready for you to come home. We're going to the airport first thing in the morning."

_No I'm not_, Brenda thought faintly, _I'm going to Tobacco Road first thing in the morning; it's Monday, there's always so much to do on Mondays, Anna will need me…_ she didn't even try to hide her tears as she turned and fled, heading for the room Darlene had given her at the back of the house and casting herself down on the mattress, wiping furiously at her eyes and trying not to be that silly girl in the movies who just sat in the corner and wept until someone else came along and fixed everything.

_I'm not going back,_ she told herself, _and there's no way they'll make me._

···

Brenda stayed in her room until she was certain that her aunt was asleep. She'd packed most of her things into a backpack, leaving the rest of it behind. It was a long walk to Tobacco Road, and she didn't want to carry anything she didn't have to. She crept out of the house as quietly as she could, walking down the road in utter darkness and wishing she'd thought far enough ahead to bring a flashlight.

With each step she thought of her parents, of her brothers, her friends from school, Darlene; would they understand, if she told them that she loved Anna? That Anna loved her, and that this is where they belonged, growing tobacco in the shadow of those proud blue mountains? Maybe they would. After all, her parents were people, not monsters, and surely they would understand that a love like this shouldn't be destroyed just because Brenda still had a year of school left.

Her feet finally carried her through the gate at Tobacco Road, the compound beyond eerily still. She headed for the farmhouse, but stopped short when she caught sight of Anna on the porch.

The woman was sitting on the steps much the same as Brenda had on the fourth of July, a bottle of beer in one hand and a faintly smoking cigarette in the other. Brenda had never seen her smoke before, and she watched in mild confusion as Anna took a drag, held it a moment, and then expelled the smoke in a long, graceful sweep. The woman was wrapped in her robe and, if Brenda had to guess, nothing else, but it was as if the light that had shone from her eyes earlier in the day had been extinguished. She seemed tired, and sad, and she did not smile when she saw Brenda.

"I was wondering when you'd get here, Brenda Leigh," she said softly, her voice carrying easily over the yard.

Brenda gaped at her, but before she could ask, Anna continued, "Your aunt called me a while ago. Said you might try running away. I've been waiting for you."

"She told you?" Brenda asked, walking forwards until she could sit down next to Anna. The older woman finished her beer in one swig and set the bottle aside, wrapping her arm around Brenda's thin shoulders.

"She did," Anna said, kissing Brenda's temple.

"I'm not going," Brenda said forcefully. "I'm staying here with you. I love you, and this is where I want to be."

Anna shook her head sadly, taking another drag from her cigarette. She was careful not to blow the smoke in Brenda's face.

"You and I both know you can't do that, Brenda Leigh," she said quietly, in that low tone that allowed for no discussion. Brenda wasn't having any of it, however; without Anna she would be lost, and she couldn't bear the thought of flying away from her in the morning.

"Please, Anna," she begged, "Don't make me go. You ran away from home when you were younger than me! You got to see the world; you got to do whatever you wanted! Please, I just want to be with you."

Anna removed her arm from Brenda's shoulders and drew her knees up close, hugging them as if she were cold. She stared straight out into the darkness as she spoke her next words, smoking all the while.

"I did run away from home, Brenda Leigh. I was sixteen years old, and I thought the whole world belonged to me. You know how far it got me? By the time I was seventeen years old I was pregnant and working as a waitress outside Fort Bragg. That's it. And Ray married me because he was a good man and he'd knocked me up so he figured that was what he was supposed to do. And sure, we moved around a lot, but once you've seen one Army Base, trust me, sweetheart, you've seen them all. It was hell, Brenda Leigh. I wanted everything, and I wanted it right away, and I didn't want to admit that life was hard. And you know what it got me? It got me a dead husband and a kid who won't talk to me." Anna's eyes were hard and unforgiving as they stared out across the yard. "My parents never met my son, because I was too stubborn to admit that I was wrong. They died before I got the chance to make things right. And now, I don't even have a high school diploma, Brenda Leigh; this farm is all I've got." She finally turned to the girl, her eyes suddenly pleading, every line of her face seeming sharper in the light streaming out from inside the house. "My Brenda Leigh," she said, "you could do anything you want. You could be anything you want. You could go so far away from here. Life is out there, a great big life, waiting for you, and I can't let you waste all your potential here with me."

Brenda let out a shuddering breath, determined not to cry. She could not, would not, cry now. "But don't you love me?" she asked, hating how small her voice sounded.

"Of course I do," Anna said, reaching up to caress Brenda's cheek with a gentle hand. Brenda turned her face slightly, kissing the work-toughened skin of Anna's palm. "And that's why you have to go. I love you too much to let you stay here. In a year, or two, or ten, you'd wake up one day and realized your whole life had passed you by, and you'd hate me for it."

Brenda shook her head, started to protest, but Anna wouldn't let her. "Yes, you would." She took one last drag on her cigarette before she stubbed it out. Brenda could hear the wheels of a truck crunching on the gravel, heading up from the fields towards the house.

"Jimmy's going to drive you back to Darlene's," Anna said.

The world was spinning, turning upside down and all around under her feet, and Brenda didn't even have Anna to hold on to anymore.

"Please," she said, hating the way her voice broke, but Anna just shook her head.

They stood up together as Jimmy's truck pulled up in front of the porch.

"Go on now," Anna said, taking a step away from her.

"Please, can I…can I kiss you one more time?" Brenda asked, hating that she had to ask for it all, hating her stupid aunt and her stupid parents and this stupid farm and jimmy's stupid truck. Anna just shook her head.

"Go on now," she said again, pulling a cigarette and lighter out of the pocket of her robe. Brenda flung her bag into the bed of Jimmy's truck and clambered inside the cab, slamming the door with an eerie clang of finality. She watched Anna Grace fade from view until she was nothing but the red burning end of her cigarette, and then she was gone.

She was gone.

Brenda buried her face in her hands and cried the whole back to Darlene's, and Jimmy let her. He never said a word.


	6. Chapter 6

_I often think about that summer  
>The sweat, the moonlight, and the lace<br>And I have rarely held another  
>When I haven't seen her face<br>And every time I pass a wheat field  
>And watch it dancing with the wind<br>Although I know it isn't real  
>I just can't help but feel<br>Her hungry arms again  
>-"That Summer," Garth Brooks<em>

_····_

"Chief Johnson, wait."

Brenda spun around, finding herself face-to-face with the Captain, who seemed much more in control of herself than she had just a few minutes before. _She looks as tired as I feel,_ Brenda thought, watching those clear green eyes, so sincere as the woman continued to speak.

"I just wanted to say that I understand the urge to protect the people you work with, and I respect it. But I'm obligated to investigate this shooting as if it were a criminal act, and I would ask that you do nothing to jeopardize the success of my inquiry. That's all."

It was hard to focus on the actual words she said, and not the way she said them. Brenda was exhausted, her cat was probably dying, Gabriel had shot someone, and she couldn't bring herself to care about anything but the way Raydor's lips carefully articulated each word, the way her low, husky voice conveyed her devotion to the job. How strange, that this woman who had so quickly become an enemy, should also be on of the most enticing people Brenda had ever met.

And oh yes, they were enemies now. After that little spat in the office, there could be no doubt that the two of them had very different ideas about how this investigation was going to be run, and Brenda would not let anything stand in the way of her clearing Gabriel's name. It was a shame, really; in another world, they might have been friends. The thought had crossed her mind as she watched the Captain walk away the night before.

Now, however, it seemed almost laughable. Brenda had tried so hard to convince Will, had been so certain that if nothing else she'd be able to get Pope on her side, but at the end of the meeting all he'd given her was a "play nice with the other children" lecture and sent her on her way. Raydor's righteous anger and her 72-hour deadline had roped him in much more effectively than Brenda's batting eyelashes.

And now, this little sermon on how Raydor needed Brenda's cooperation. _Damn her._

"You stay out of my way, Captain, and I'll stay out of yours." The words were out before she could stop them, and for the briefest of moments she fancied she saw a flash of sadness cross the Captain's features. Wasn't that what Raydor was asking for? What had the woman actually expected from her?

"Well, I tried," Raydor said, sounding genuinely disappointed as she brushed past them and made her way down the hallway. Brenda forced herself to look Taylor in the eye, to ignore the swing of Raydor's hips and the nagging voice in the back of her mind that said she had not handled that confrontation well.

···

_Stop crying, stop crying, stop crying, _she told herself, her heart sinking even further in her chest when Taylor intercepted her and informed her that Pope and Raydor were in her office. She wanted a piece of chocolate, she wanted to hold Kitty, and she wanted to never see Sharon Raydor again. These days she didn't seem to be getting any of the things she wanted.

She was grateful when Gabriel distracted her for a moment, giving her the opportunity to take a few deep breaths and pull herself together before she faced the unwelcome visitors inside her office. The last thing she needed was for them to see her falling apart.

When Brenda opened the door it was to find Pope standing awkwardly by the wall, and Raydor perched in one of the chairs, her long legs folded neatly and a pen twisting between her fingers. _Damn her_, Brenda thought as she crossed the room, heading for her desk, trying not to look at Raydor. Even the woman's hands were distracting. She listened as Raydor continued to speak, feeling the anger rising in her the longer this continued. Why was no one on her side? Why did no one else trust Sergeant Gabriel?

"_I_ am the one with the victim," the words exploded out of her, unable to restrain herself any longer. _Damn_ but Raydor was infuriating, all careful explanations and smug looks over the rim of her glasses. Calling Eric a victim, when it was Gabriel whose life was on the line. "And you're protecting the suspect from the justice system."

Raydor's voice was low and deadly when she spoke again, and for the briefest of moments Brenda was back in that fat man's warehouse many years before, listening to Anna Grace. It was unnerving, really, how quickly the Captain's voice could send Brenda's mind reeling back through the years.

"The opposite is true here actually, Chief Johnson," Raydor said, her eyes narrowing on the Chief, holding her in place as the older woman watched her with a raised eyebrow. That look should have irritated Brenda, or concerned her, but really, it made her want to laugh. They were so alike, couldn't Raydor see? They each believed whole-heartedly in their cause, they were each accustomed to getting their own way, stubborn and smarter than everyone around them. Definitely smarter than Pope. Brenda wondered how much more they'd be able to accomplish if they weren't working at cross purposes, but their current antagonism was mostly her fault, and she wasn't about to be the first to back down.

_This is going to be a long day,_ Brenda thought to herself.

_···_

It was over. Finally, after all the fear and doubt and pressure to believe otherwise, it was over, and Gabriel was cleared. He'd done nothing wrong, after all. Brenda would be lying if she said there weren't moments when she was fairly certain he was going to lose his badge, but in the end it had all worked out.

Raydor stood stiffly off to the side while Brenda sat behind her desk. Neither woman spoke as they waited for Gabriel to arrive. Brenda could see him, just outside her office, talking to Taylor and Sanchez. Part of her wished he would hurry the hell up and end the awkward standoff in her office, and part of her wished he would take much, much longer. She wasn't sure when she'd have the opportunity to be alone with the Captain again.

Raydor stood with her back straight, her hands clasped in front of her as though she wasn't entirely sure what to do with them. A thousand different words were on the tip of Brenda's tongue; an apology, and accusation, an invitation, but none of them came out. They wasted away as Brenda stared at the photo of her husband on the desk and wondered why it was, exactly, that she wanted to be friends with Raydor so badly.

"I am sorry for the way this happened, Chief," Raydor said suddenly, her voice so low that Brenda almost wasn't sure she'd spoken at all. "It's never easy, when a member of your own team is under investigation, and I understand your reluctance to cooperate with me." Raydor was staring down at her very expensive shoes, avoiding Brenda's gaze. "Although, it might have been easier if you realized that I am not your enemy."

_No, she's not,_ Brenda thought, still looking straight at the picture on her desk. Raydor had apologized, had given her a way out. A way for them to move forward. She needed to speak, to parrot Raydor's apology at the very least, but the words wouldn't come. Her tongue stuck in her mouth and Raydor sighed, running a hand through her lush wealth of hair.

"I tried," she murmured, and Brenda could have kicked herself, but then Gabriel was opening the door and it was too late.

The words sounded oddly formal as she explained the situation to Gabriel. She noticed that Raydor still wasn't looking at her. When she asked the Captain if there was anything else, she hadn't actually expected the woman to speak, but then Raydor had said _yeah, there is_ in that same low, calm tone and Brenda found herself suddenly terrified that Raydor was going to launch into a speech about how poorly they'd all behaved during this investigation.

She didn't.

"Sergeant Gabriel the district attorney has reviewed FID's report and upon our recommendation is not filing charges against you. So once Behavioral Science has signed off, you are cleared for full duty."

Gabriel was clearly struggling to keep his unpleasant feelings for the Captain at bay when he responded with a simple, "Thank you, Captain," but then something sort of odd happened.

Brenda watched Raydor's face carefully as the woman responded. Her answer was brief, just _you're very welcome,_ but there was something in her expression, in the set of her mouth and the tone of her voice that spoke of a warmth Brenda had not previously believed her capable of. Raydor really was glad that Gabriel had been cleared, that this whole mess was over; Brenda could see it written across the woman's face. Sharon Raydor, it seemed, would never stop surprising Brenda Leigh.

···

_This is ridiculous, _Brenda thought to herself as she paced back and forth on Sharon Raydor's front porch, bottle of wine clutched in her hands. _Absolutely ridiculous._

The case was finally over, and although Brenda should have been relieved, she found herself plagued by a heavy feeling of guilt that did not abate until finally she snapped, grabbing the fresh bottle of Merlot off the counter and stealing out into the night without so much as a word to her husband. She had to see Raydor; she felt the need to apologize for her less than civil behavior, but she also felt the need to be close to the woman, to watch the sparks fly in the air between them until the tension became almost too much to bear. The feeling she got when Sharon Raydor was around was a high like no other, and Brenda was jonesing for a fix.

Now, however, the reality of showing up on Raydor's doorstep at nearly 10pm on a Friday night with a bottle of wine in her hand didn't seem like the brilliant move it had twenty minutes ago. Now it seemed like quite possibly the stupidest thing Brenda had ever done, but though she fretted on the porch, she made no move to leave.

Finally, fed up with herself and the waiting and thinking that if she had to wait there much longer she'd just open the bottle and go to town on it herself, she reached out and rang the doorbell.

"Come in!" Raydor's voice sung out from the other side of the door, close but still muffled by the walls.

Brenda stared blankly at the door for a moment before reaching for the knob, thinking to herself that Raydor was awfully trusting for someone who'd lived in LA for any length of time at all.

The door was unlocked and Brenda pushed her way inside, immediately finding herself wrapped up in the warmth of Sharon Raydor's home. There was music coming from somewhere, and the foyer in which Brenda now stood was painted a sunny shade of yellow, pictures of smiling people in neat wooden frames on the walls.

"Hey, baby!" Raydor's voice called cheerily from somewhere off to Brenda's left. "I was wondering when you were going to show up! I hope you brought the white wine, I decided to make salmon and I don't think the red would go with it."

Brenda flushed crimson. Evidently, whomever Raydor was expecting, it wasn't Brenda Leigh Johnson, and the Deputy Chief felt bad for intruding. She followed the sound of Raydor's voice, however; she'd come here for a reason, and she was going to talk to the dark-haired Captain, even if it killed her.

Brenda found the woman in the kitchen, her back turned to the doorway as she busied herself with the pots and pans on the stove in front of her, humming softly to the music. Brenda's jaw dropped open as her eyes lighted on Raydor's attire; the woman wore nothing but a soft pink silk negligee, the lacy hem flirting with the bottom of her ass. She wore a half-apron tied delicately around her waist to protect the expensive-looking garment as she cooked, her feet encased in sky-high black stilettos, her hair falling in mass of easy curls. She painted quite the picture.

"Baby?" Raydor said when she heard no response to her greeting, turning away from the stove and towards the doorway.

Her expression was briefly hopeful, a lovely smile painted on her face, but the Captain Raydor mask was back in place so quickly it made Brenda feel a little dizzy. The neckline of Raydor's negligee was dangerously low, revealing the generous swell of her breasts, her hard nipples tenting the fabric and Brenda desperately tried to keep her eyes on Raydor's face. This seemed worse, somehow, than stumbling across the Captain naked, and the level of awkward tension between them rose to an unbearable level at lightning speed.

"Chief," Raydor said, her voice dangerously low, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. She crossed her arms protectively over her chest, but the move only served to create a tantalizing frame for all the skin she was trying to cover up.

"C-Captain Raydor," Brenda answered, hating the way her words stumbled out, "I'm so sorry, am I interrupting anything?"

Raydor stared at her. "Not yet," she answered finally, turning her attention back to the food she was preparing. It smelled heavenly. "What do you need, Chief?" this last line was uttered on a small sigh, the disappointment evident in the older woman's voice and the slight droop to her shoulders. As bad as Brenda felt for surprising her like this, she felt worse for getting the Captain's hopes up; the woman was clearly looking forward to a visit from _someone_, and seeing Brenda instead of that someone appeared to have upset her.

"I wanted to talk to you," Brenda told her, hating how foolish that sounded. Yes, she wanted to talk to the woman. She wanted to tell Raydor that she found her absolutely infuriating, that she had very nearly ruined David Gabriel's life for no good reason, that she was a bit of bitch, and that she was the loveliest woman Brenda had ever seen in her whole life.

It was that last part that Brenda decided she should probably keep to herself since Raydor was half-naked in her kitchen and waiting for someone she called _baby_.

"Do you think you could talk quickly, Chief?" Raydor asked, and even though Brenda couldn't see her it seemed that she could feel the edges of the woman's mouth quirk up in that sideways little smile she sometimes wore when she thought no one was looking.

Brenda stared at her back, trying to keep her eyes focused on the smooth skin of her shoulders and away from her ass, swaying tantalizingly as the woman shifted from one foot to the other. What was she supposed to say now? The words she had been rehearsing in the car on the way over here drifted away from her mind, all conscious thought replaced with the vision of Sharon Raydor before her and the faint smell of tobacco that Brenda was almost certain she was only imagining.

"I wanted to apologize," she finally managed, but before she could say any more, the trilling of Raydor's cell phone interrupted her.

The Captain sighed.

"Do you think you could keep an eye on the vegetables while I answer that?" Raydor asked, turning slightly to catch Brenda's eye. The Chief just nodded in reply, an answer that earned her a sunny smile. "When they're done, just take them off the heat. Don't let them turn brown. I'll just be a moment."

And then she was walking away, almost dancing towards her phone on the kitchen table. Brenda took up her post in front of the stove, staring warily down at the vegetables sautéing in the pan and prodding at them with a spoon she found resting on the edge of the stove.

"Hello?" she heard Raydor say, and then more warmly, "Hey." She was quiet for a moment as she listened, and then, "Wait, what? I already made dinner."

_Oh dear,_ Brenda thought. She recognized that tone of voice well. She'd heard it from Fritz on many, many previous occasions.

"I realize it's your birthday, that's why I made you-" the person on the other line had apparently cut her off, and Raydor sighed in frustration. And then, "You know what? You do whatever you want, but if you decide you'd rather go out and get drunk instead of coming here, then we're through."

Brenda chewed on her bottom lip, wishing she weren't present for this conversation, and yet there was a little voice in the back of her mind that seemed to be rejoicing in the Captain's words. If the Captain were a free agent, not tied down to someone else, then maybe, just maybe…

_No,_ Brenda thought forcefully, jabbing at the brightly colored peppers and carrots and snap peas and she didn't know what all else in the pan, _No. Raydor is just Raydor, and this is not going anywhere. _

"Fuck you, too," she heard Raydor snap, and then there was silence. She had evidently hung up the phone. Brenda wished the radio were a little louder; there was nothing to cover up the fury she felt rolling off of Sharon in dark waves.

"Chief," the woman said suddenly, "Do you mind if I open this bottle of wine?"

"Go right ahead," Brenda said with a sweeping gesture towards the bottle she'd left on the kitchen table. She noticed the vegetables starting to turn color, and quickly switched off the heat underneath them. She was proud of herself, actually, for not burning them, but her pride gave way to a sense of uncomfortable uncertainty. She had nothing to do now, and Raydor was fuming and pouring herself a vey large glass of wine.

Brenda turned around just in time to watch Raydor down half the glass in a single gulp, her eyes closed and her expression set in a sort of grimace. When Raydor opened her eyes they immediately found Brenda Leigh, settling on her with a sad kind of bemusement.

The Chief didn't know what to say. Raydor didn't really seem to, either. She turned slightly, pulling another wine glass down from the rack behind her and offered it to Brenda. The blonde's feet carried her forward without another thought, taking the glass from Sharon's hand, careful not to let their fingers touch. Sharon refused to move, so Brenda stood right beside her as she poured the Merlot into her own glass.

"Chief," Sharon said suddenly, and Brenda braced herself, waiting for the Captain to send her on her way. "I'm going to put on my robe, but after that, since you want to talk, and I have all this food, why don't you stay and eat with me?" The words came out quickly, as if Raydor was afraid they might hurt.

Brown eyes meet green as Brenda stared at her, the shrill sound of a timer beeping calling an end to the salmon cooking, but also, it seemed, to something else.

Brenda simply nodded.

····

The food was absolutely wonderful, and the wine was better; Brenda smiled faintly as she watched Sharon sitting across the table, fingers absently toying with the sash of her white robe. They'd polished off the entire bottle of wine and were working on a second one Sharon had pulled out from somewhere, and the pleasant buzzed feeling had made them both chattier than normal.

"So, you wanna tell me who all this was for?" Brenda asked, waving a hand towards the dirty dishes piled up in the sink, and Sharon sighed.

"I'm seeing- I _was_ seeing," she corrected quickly, "This woman, and I wanted to do something special for her birthday."

Brenda's mind flitted back to that first image of Sharon, in nothing but the negligee and heels, and she decided that this woman, whoever she was, was a complete _moron_. Who could possibly stay away from a vision like that, especially when Sharon had gone to so much trouble to make a lovely dinner after what Brenda knew had been a terrible couple of days?

"Why isn't she eating dinner with you then?" Brenda asked pointedly. She couldn't really identify where all this morbid curiosity was coming from; it was just there, the way it always was. Brenda always wanted to know the answers.

"She thinks I'm boring," Sharon said quietly, staring into her wine.

_Boring? _Definitely not a word Brenda would use to describe Sharon Raydor.

"Because I don't like to go to the movies," Sharon explained, "or go dancing. I like to dance, don't get me wrong, but she always wanted to go to these clubs and they're so loud, and the music's terrible, and there's all these twenty-something kids there, and I always think, _do your mothers have any idea what you're doing right now?"_ Sharon sighed. "I work hard, and I like to come home and relax and have a nice meal and she thinks I'm boring."

Brenda fought the urge to reach out and take Sharon's hand. She was drunk, but she wasn't _that_ drunk. She settled instead for murmuring, "I know what you mean," and taking another long sip of the wine.

The Captain was staring at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You know, Chief, you didn't seem all that surprised when I told you I was seeing a woman."

It was a statement, but a question, too, and it hung in the air between them. Brenda turned her answer over and over in her mind, trying to find a way to say what she really thought without sounding like an idiot. She hadn't spent any time actively wondering whether Sharon preferred men or women, but when the words had come out of Sharon's mouth it was almost as if they had come in answer to another, deeper question than just, _who are you seeing._ It was almost as if the realization that Sharon was, in fact, interested in women had proven to Brenda that maybe, just maybe, she had a chance with the Captain. A chance for what, she wasn't sure, but _something_.

"I knew this woman," she said, the words spilling out of her before she could stop them, spurred on by too much wine and the need to tell Sharon what she'd been thinking since the very first day they met, "Her name was Anna Grace. When I saw you for the first time, I felt like someone had punched me in the gut. You reminded me so much of her."

Sharon was watching her carefully over the rim of her glass, and Brenda struggled to get the words right.

"Not just the way you look, but the way you acted. It's why I hated you so much in the beginning…"

Her voice trailed off and Sharon finished for her, "Because you loved her."

Brenda nodded before she could stop herself, and Sharon just smiled sadly.

"Chief," she said before Brenda could finishing talking, "Would you mind terribly if we took this outside? I'd really like a smoke just now."

Brenda stared up at Sharon, who had risen to her feet, her mind thrown back to that night on Anna's front porch and the smell of cigarette smoke too close to her face as her world came crashing down around her ears. She nodded dumbly and rose, following Sharon towards the patio beyond the kitchen. The Captain stopped for just a moment by the door, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from a basket mounted on the wall there before they continued. Outside there were two heavy wooden chairs sitting on either side of a low table, facing out into the small yard beyond, and Brenda could smell the brightly colored flowers growing nearby, their pleasant scent floating on the breeze. Sharon sat down and gestured for Brenda to do the same before lighting up the cigarette, smoke wafting gently around her face and giving her an almost heavenly glow.

The Chief felt the need to continue what she'd started in the kitchen, to explain the realization she'd come to just as they were wrapping up their investigation. It had hit her all at once one night as she lay awake, tossing and turning beside her peacefully sleeping husband. Now that she understood, she had to share it.

"I said you reminded me of Anna when we first met, and that's true," she said, staring off into the darkness of the yard beyond because that seemed easier than looking Sharon in the eye, "But now that I know you better, I know you're nothing like her."

Sharon was watching her out of the corner of her eye, but she said nothing. "You're braver than she was, Sharon, and you're stronger. You don't run away from the hard things. You've done so well for yourself, you know who you are…" her voice trailed off, unsure of whether or not Sharon was even listening, unsure of whether she should continue or just keep her mouth shut for the rest of her life.

But then Sharon was reaching out, a gentle hand finding Brenda's in the darkness, their fingers twining together. Sharon gave her hand a gentle squeeze, but she didn't let go.

Brenda held on for dear life.

"I used to think," she said quietly, "That it was just Anna. It was just a one-time thing, and there was no reason to tell my parents or my friends, and when the quarterback of the football team asked me to prom I had no good reason to say no. But Sharon, I have never in my life wanted anyone as badly as I wanted her, until I met you."

She hadn't meant to say those words, and she regretted them the moment they left her lips. She could feel the ring on her finger, suddenly heavy as an anchor. Was that really how she felt?

Brenda chanced a sideways glance at Sharon, her regal profile, the smoke wafting around her face, her fingers still entwined with Brenda's. She thought about the last few days, about their heated discussions, about the admiration she had developed for the other woman. It had been grudging at first, a simple admission that yes, Sharon was good at her job, and yes, more often than not, Sharon was right. She remembered Sharon's heated outburst that morning in Pope's office, right after they met; the passionate display was vastly different from Sharon's usual icy calm, but it spoke of a greater depth, of a heart that felt more deeply. Brenda remembered earlier in the week, when they'd faced off in her office. She had seen the hurt in Sharon's eyes, but also the conviction. Sharon did what she needed to in order to support her fellow officers. They may vilify her, but that was fine by Sharon so long as she was able to protect them.

And _God_ but she was gorgeous, and Brenda had wondered what it would feel like to kiss her, to taste her lips, to hear her moan, had wondered what it would look like when Sharon came undone, how it would be if she was the one allowed to touch the goddess sitting next to her.

She did want her, and the thought consumed her now as she sat quietly, waiting for the other woman to speak.

Sharon's response was no more than a sigh. "I think you should go home, Brenda Leigh," she said, her voice barely audible. She gave Brenda's hand another squeeze, and then pulled away.


	7. Chapter 7

_Strawberry wine  
>Seventeen<br>The hot July moon  
>Saw everything<br>My first taste of love  
>Oh, bittersweet<br>And green on the vine  
>Like strawberry wine<br>-"Strawberry Wine," Deanna Carter_

_····_

The mud was cool between her toes, not the red clay of Georgia but a darker, loamier kind of earth that spoke of life and growth and hope for another day. She remembered this feeling, and experiencing it for the first time in so many years had her nearly giddy with relief and something very close to joy. She squished her bare feet in the mud and turned her face into the sun and soaked in the moment, grateful for the peace being alone afforded her.

The house behind her was empty, as it had been for years. Darlene was living in a nursing home in the city; she'd been there for years, ever since she'd started to forget things. Now Darlene couldn't even remember how to talk, but she was fed and cared for and she got to sit in a chair by the afternoon sun and look out onto the bright greenness beyond her window. Brenda had stopped in to visit her; the woman might have been a frigid bitch in her younger days, but now she was old and she had no one, and Brenda took the time to sit beside her, to make sure she was all right.

Now, however, Brenda had left the city behind and rolled down a dirt road that was at once as familiar to her as her own hand, and completely foreign. The county still hadn't paved the road out to Darlene's home, and most of the old, gnarled trees still grew alongside it. The land hadn't changed, really, just the people in it.

Brenda was relieved to discover the house in a relatively decent state. After all, Darlene had been gone for years, but from the looks of things, someone had been checking in on the house from time to time, making sure that the shutters weren't broken and the weeds weren't trying to shoot up through the foundation. Brenda had an inkling that whoever was responsible for this probably came from Darlene's church; they sent food to widows and they whispered behind closed doors, as contradictory as humans can be, but with good intentions.

Brenda's little rental car looked out of place in the mud of Darlene's driveway, and she briefly fretted about the state of the vehicle when she stepped out and discovered how messy it was. There was mud on the windshield, even. _Will they charge me for that?_ She wondered, but the thought was quickly lost in the enchantment of the afternoon, the reason Brenda had come.

This felt more like coming home than arriving at her parents' house ever did; this was coming back to who she was, facing herself in the light of a summer sun, under the green leaves. This was Brenda Leigh, not an investigator or an interrogator or a bitch or a wife or a daughter, this was _Brenda Leigh_, a woman who stood in the sunlight with mud between her toes and remembered the very first time she ever fell in love.

After a time she grabbed her bag from the car, and headed for the front door. The outside of the house might have been in decent shape, but Brenda did not hold the same hope for the inside. She found a key under the front mat, a good sign she hoped, and let herself inside. She hadn't told anyone she was coming here, not her parents and certainly not anyone in this podunk little town, and she did briefly consider the fact that if someone came to take care of the house and found her there, she could very well end up getting shot before she had a chance to explain herself.

Those things happened to strangers here, and whether she'd like to admit it or not, Brenda was a stranger. She was not a seventeen-year-old girl anymore. People trusted her less now, and she honestly couldn't blame them.

The inside of the house was dusty, but not unbearably so, and Brenda thought idly as she passed through the rooms that if she had the time she'd like to go through and clean it thoroughly. Deputy Chief Johnson never voluntarily cleaned a damn thing, her husband could attest to that, but Brenda Leigh wandered through the house thinking it might be a nice thing to do, even if Darlene never got to see the results. She had never properly thanked the woman for that summer; as a teenager she had been sullen and had practically hated her aunt, but as a grown woman she saw that it was Darlene who had allowed her to come to this place in the beginning. It was Darlene who had sent her down to Tobacco Road with a basket full of food. _If only she had known what she was starting_, Brenda thought to herself with a sad smile as she entered the kitchen.

She'd brought a little bit of food, just some candy and the makings of sandwiches; she held her breath as she opened the refrigerator, fearing what she might discover inside, but found it mercifully empty and clean. _Small blessings,_ she thought.

Brenda glanced out the window. The sun was still high in the sky, though it was slipping gradually off to the west.

_Now or never,_ she thought, watching the light dancing off the leaves. The weather was perfect for walking (and she fully intended to walk) and Brenda knew that the longer she waited, the harder the three-mile trek was going to be. She reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of socks and the shoes she'd brought just for this occasion, pulling them both on over mud-caked feet. She made her way back out of the house, putting the key back where she'd found it.

She hesitated a moment on the porch, staring off into the world beyond, Darlene's words from so very long ago echoing in her ears, _walk out of the house and go left. Follow the signs to Tobacco Road. Once you get to the gate you'll see the house. Although, knowing that woman she'll probably be in the barn…_

What she would give to find Anna Grace in the barn, sweat shining on her face and her hair a tangled mess from the heat and humidity. Anna would only be sixty-six- maybe sixty-seven- by now, and she'd always been a healthy, energetic woman. Surely she'd still be there. And yet somehow, it seemed too much to hope, as though when Brenda started down off the porch and towards the farm she _knew_ she would not find Anna Grace when she arrived.

The thought didn't frighten her, but she also didn't dwell on it, nor did she think long on how the last thirty years might have changed Anna's face. How the last thirty years had changed her own. For one terrifying second the thought occurred to her that even if she were there, Anna might not remember her at all, and the force of the notion hit her like a blow to the chest, briefly stopping her in her tracks.

She kept walking, though, down the gravel track, the dirt and rocks packed more closely together from three more decades of use, but the woods on either side just as close, as all-knowing as they had been the summer Brenda Leigh was seventeen and just starting down this road for the first time. Her mind wandered as she walked, from faded memories and unanswered questions about where Anna Grace might be to a single face, kind and true, lined with the wrinkles time had given her. It had been months since Brenda's confession, and Sharon had never mentioned it. She'd been cold in the beginning, putting as much distance between herself and the blonde as possible; and then she'd been so supportive during the Goldman case that Brenda honestly didn't know what to think any more. If Sharon just hated her, that would be one thing, but this back and forth, this aloofness followed by kindness was not something she knew how to handle. Sharon Raydor remained in the forefront of Brenda's musings, and on this particular road at this particular time of year, Brenda found she could not even feel embarrassed for what she had done.

_I have never in my life wanted anyone as badly as I wanted her, until I met you._

The statement had been foolish, however heartfelt it might have been. What had she expected from Sharon, some sort of declaration of undying love? Brenda had been petulant and disdainful and at times almost cruel to the other woman during the course of the investigation and the months that followed; she had given Raydor no reason to be _fond_ of her, let alone to think of her in a romantic sense. Sharon must have been blindsided by her confession, and yet Brenda was glad she made it. She didn't take the time to speak her feelings aloud often enough these days. Raydor could do with that information whatever she wished; it made no difference to Brenda at this point. The words had been more for her own sake, anyway. She'd needed to face them, to face her own desires head on, to face her past and the truth of her spirit. The truth was she felt trapped, not by the city or even by the job but by the notion of who she was trying to be. A dutiful daughter, a loving wife; she was not good at playing those roles, anymore. She wasn't sure she'd ever been. In the months since she'd held Sharon's hand while speaking Anna Grace's name out loud for the first time in years, Brenda had struggled to keep herself together, but one fight too many with Fritz and it all came tumbling down. She'd packed a bag and flown out here, just like that.

Her thoughts continued to wander, to Will Pope and what he'd do when she didn't turn up for work the next time he called her in; she'd left Andy Flynn in charge and she hoped to God that would be enough to deter Pope's wrath. She thought about Fritz, fuming alone in their little house, and all the things she'd denied him. She'd dragged her feet when they first started dating, put up a fight when he wanted to move in together, stretched out their engagement so long that he had begun to question if their marriage was ever going to happen at all, had used subterfuge to keep them from moving out of a house she felt comfortable in, refused point blank to consider having children; when she really looked at their relationship, there were so many signs, big and small, that she didn't want to be involved with him. So many signs, and yet she had persevered, because he was a good man, probably the best man who had ever wanted her, and whether she wanted to admit it or not there had always been that little voice in the back of her head reminding her that if she didn't find someone, she'd end up utterly alone, wasting away into old age with no one to take care of her.

She shook her head, brushing a stray blonde curl out of her face, and continued to put one foot in front of the other until the sound of the birds in the trees and the feel of the sweat dripping down her back overcame all her other senses, and she was simply a woman walking down a road, not worrying about a thing, just walking.

The red gate appeared faster than she would have liked, slightly rusted and the paint flaking off but still the same red gate, still swung open. Brenda could hear sounds coming from the yard beyond, could see a trail of smoke rising above the barn, and her heart leapt into her throat. She noticed as she walked through the gate that there were long wooden poles on the leaning side of the barn, propping it up. The sight brought a smile to her lips.

As she walked she half-expected to see Jimmy coming towards her, wiping the sweat from his weathered brow with that same old blue bandana. He didn't appear, however, no matter how badly she wished he might.

Brenda stopped in the middle of the yard, weighing her options. She could head to the barn, although she didn't know who to look for, and if people asked her she wouldn't know who to say she'd come to see. She could head for the house, but there was no telling if anyone was even inside on a Saturday afternoon when there was work to be done.

Fate made up her mind for her, however, because as she stood there pondering and gnawing on her bottom lip, a man emerged from the house, stopping dead on the porch when he caught sight of her.

"Help you?" he called, brow clearly furrowed in confusion, and Brenda steeled herself for the conversation. She put on her best smile and headed towards him at brisk pace, suddenly hating the sweat that trailed down her back and threatened to drip into her eyes.

"Hey there!" she called with a friendly wave, drawing nearer to the porch. The man continued to stare at her as if she were an alien. She waited until she was closer before she explained herself, not wanting to shout Anna's name across the yard until she knew for sure whether the woman was there at all.

"I'm an old friend of Anna's. Is she here?" Brenda asked when she finally reached the shade of the porch. She remained at the bottom of the short flight of stairs, staring up at the tall man standing above her. He was broad-shouldered and grey-haired, and might have been handsome if he weren't so ornery looking.

"An old friend of _Anna's?_" the man repeated, saying the name as though there were something wrong with it. He took a step towards her. "Must not have been a very good friend, then, or else you would have known that _Anna Grace_ died six years ago."

Brenda felt as though the earth was shifting under her feet. She reached out for one of the posts holding up the porch, propping herself up as she struggled to keep the tears at bay. She thought she was prepared for this, thought she could handle the loss, but facing the reality of it she found herself lost. _Anna Grace died…_

"Was there something specific you wanted?" he asked, continuing to stare at her in that way that made her feel like an interloper in this place that had once felt more like home to her than any other. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him that she'd gotten drunk on that porch and eaten breakfast in the kitchen and fucked Anna Grace in the bedroom upstairs, but she found that the words would not come.

The man crossed his arms over his chest, his facing softening somewhat as he saw the sorrow in Brenda's eyes. "Who are you?" he asked, the words coming out less like an accusation than his earlier statements.

"Brenda Leigh Johnson," she answered, surprised that she'd managed to get the words out without stammering.

The man blinked at her slowly, running a hand through his thick grey hair.

"I think you should come inside," he said finally, turning and heading back into the house without another word. Brenda followed him.

Like the rest of the farm, the house had barely changed. The same knickknacks, the same furniture, the same thin layer of dust and the same sort of smell, of lemons and drying tobacco and the faintest hint of coffee. He led her into the kitchen and she followed along on autopilot, her mind assaulted by the memories, half expecting to see Anna right around the corner, hot cup of coffee in her hand and a smile on her face.

The man was pretty much ignoring her at this point, rummaging around in his freezer until he came out with a bottle of bourbon. He pulled a glass out of a cabinet and poured three fingers worth of the amber liquid into the glass. He swirled it around for a moment before taking a long fortifying sip and turning back around to face Brenda Leigh.

"My name is Ray Robinson Junior. Anna Grace was my mother," he told her.

Ray Junior. Brenda took a good look at him, searching for pieces of the woman she'd loved in his face. His eyes were dark and his features were square, his hair colorless and his build stocky. There wasn't a bit of Anna there, not a single thing Brenda could cling to, could look at and say, _that's her, that's the girl I remember._ Ray's father had taken that, too, along with Anna's freedom and all her hope. Brenda had learned that too late.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Ray," Brenda said, because she knew that was what she was supposed to say. It was actually awful to meet him, to look into a face that she imagined was very much like his father's. To see this man who knew more of Anna Grace than Brenda ever could and yet who had never truly understood her, a man who had hurt her so deeply. Things had been better when Brenda had been able to pretend that Ray Junior didn't exist, but it was hard to do that when she was staring into his eyes.

"It's nice to meet you too, Brenda Leigh," he answered, and her breath caught in her throat. Did he know who she was? Did he know what she and Anna had meant to each other? Did he have any idea? What did he expect from her now?

"You know who I am?" Brenda asked, hearing the trepidation in her own voice.

Ray Junior shook his head. "I don't. I do know that my mama left several things to you in her will."

Anna had left her things? What sorts of things? The confusion swirled through Brenda's brain, thoughts of Anna and the time they'd spent together and the realization that Anna had remembered her, after all. Brenda didn't know why she'd ever doubted, but the sure and certain knowledge that Anna had remembered was enough. It filled her with a sort of peace, calming all the other noise, bringing her back to the moment. She was standing in Anna's kitchen and Anna might be gone but she had remembered.

"I'm sorry for not getting them to you; I didn't know who you were and to be perfectly honest I was so angry when she died that I didn't feel like taking the time to do something for her."

"Why were you angry?" Brenda asked, the interrogator in her rearing its head. She honestly couldn't stop herself; _it's a wonder anyone puts up with me,_ she thought.

"Because my mother died," he said, "because she smoked too many damn cigarettes. Ironic, isn't it? The only thing in the whole world she loved was this damn farm and in the end it was smoking that killed her. God, I hate this place." Ray stared out the window above the sink, out into the farm beyond, the vehemence of his words ringing in Brenda's ears. How could anyone hate Tobacco Road? The beauty of the land, the kindness of the people, the truth in a hard day's work; Brenda had longed for those things when she was thousands of miles away in Los Angeles, and from Ray's tone it was obvious that he would be happier in a world where there was no Tobacco Road at all.

"Anyway," he pushed himself up off the counter, finishing the bourbon in a single swig, "if you'll stay right here for a minute I'll go and get those things."

He left the kitchen without another word, and Brenda sat down at the table, running her finger in a circle across the smooth cherry wood she remembered from all those years ago. Her time here had been brief, and Brenda knew that she couldn't judge Ray for his feelings; his mother had gone years without speaking to him, had hidden parts of her life from him, but she couldn't help but wonder at how ungrateful the man was.

Ray reappeared moments later with a large box in his hands, sitting it down on the table with a grunt. He opened the box and pulled out several heavy photo albums, and a small white envelope.

"Years ago, mama got a wild hair," he told her, "started traveling all over the place. Argentina, Israel, France, Bermuda; she went everywhere she could, and she took all these pictures. Kept 'em in scrapbooks. Evidently, she wanted you to have them."

Brenda ran her fingers over the nearest book reverently, opening it to see the pictures of Anna smiling in places Brenda had never heard of, her familiar chicken scratch scrawled under each dictating the time and place each photo had been taken. Brenda felt a tear threaten to thaw even as she grinned, happy to see Anna the way she always ought to have been, wild and free.

"She looks so happy," Brenda said softly, catching her lower lip between her teeth.

Ray Junior just scoffed, pouring himself another glass of bourbon. "Happy," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "What would she know about happy? Anna Grace was one of the most miserable people I've ever known. She's only smiling because she's pretending to be someone else, running away like she always did."

Brenda shook her head, dismayed by how little this man understood of the woman she'd loved. "Don't you see? _This _is Anna Grace. This is who she was, who she always wanted to be. This is the Anna I remember."

Ray just shrugged. "There's a letter, too, if you want to read it," he said, gesturing towards the small envelope with his glass. "I'd appreciate it if you read the letter and then took those books and got the hell out of here."

"You should keep them," Brenda said as she reached for the letter. "You should remember her this way."

"She was my mother, I remember her just fine," Ray said, and Brenda could recognize the possessiveness in his voice. She'd felt a possessiveness like that before, when she held Anna's naked body next to hers and all she could think was _mine_. Ray thought he knew better than Brenda, but the blonde couldn't shake the notion that neither of them had known the dark-haired beauty who smiled up at them from those pictures at all.

The letter was short, Brenda could see before she ever began to read it.

_My Brenda Leigh, _it read_, I have tried to write this letter to you so many times, and I am certain that I won't be able to say things the way I want to, but I figure I better try. I think about that night all the time, about the look on your face when I sent you away. I hope you know that I didn't want to, that I wanted you to stay more than anything. But I just couldn't, Brenda Leigh, I couldn't make you stay. I couldn't hold you back. I have been afraid my whole life, afraid to do the right thing, afraid to do the wrong thing. I was weak, and I ran, and when I couldn't run, I did what I thought other people expected me to. I was afraid to keep you with me, afraid of what people would say, afraid of what it might mean, and I was afraid that I would ruin your life. You were so beautiful, with your whole life ahead of you and so many possibilities. I wanted all of that for myself, but in the end I knew better. I hope that I have done right by you, even if it wasn't for purely selfless reasons. I loved you then and I love you now, and I hope that you have forgiven me. When you think of your time at Tobacco Road, I hope it is with joy in your heart._

_Forever yours,_

_Anna Grace._

···

The walk back to Darlene's house seemed longer now than it ever had before. She hadn't left for Tobacco Road until late in the afternoon, and with every step she took the sun sank a little lower behind the trees. The gathering dark suited her mood; Ray Junior had almost succeeded in taking away the joy she'd felt earlier in the day, but the photos of Anna had buoyed her spirits. Anna had found a way to be herself, to be free, to go where she wanted and do as she pleased. She'd always come back to Tobacco Road; Anna could no more escape that place than she could make herself grow six inches. The farm was Anna and Anna was the farm and though she could not make a life without it, she had managed to make the life she'd always wanted with it. And though Ray Junior was a bit of an ass, at least Anna had found a way to connect with him, to give him the biggest piece of herself. Brenda only hoped that one day the man might realize the gift he'd been given.

The house came into view, and an unexpected sight distracted Brenda from her musings. There was a car in the driveway parked next to her own rental. Her fingers itched for the gun she had left in her purse inside the house.

She continued up the driveway as quietly as she could, across the porch and through the door. She had barely closed it behind her when an achingly familiar voice called out from the kitchen, "Brenda Leigh?"

Beyond confused at this point Brenda rushed towards that honey rich voice, stunned when she found Sharon Raydor sitting comfortably at Darlene's table with a glass of ice water in her hand.

"What the hell?" Brenda asked, finding that she had no other words in this moment. How had Sharon found her? _Why _had Sharon found her? Could she possibly take a shower before they had this conversation?

"Oh, don't look at me that way," Sharon said, the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Finding you was relatively easy."

"Really?" Brenda asked, sitting down across from the remarkably composed Captain. Sharon managed to look sheepish for the briefest moments before she spoke again.

"I needed to speak with you, and Chief Pope had told me you had disappeared. I found out you'd bought a plane ticket to North Carolina, and that you have an aunt here. I asked the nice young man at the gas station for directions here, and I've been waiting for you ever since."

"How did you know you were at the right house?" Brenda asked.

Sharon shrugged. "I got the plates on your car from the rental agency."

Brenda began to laugh, a great big booming laugh that made Sharon jump. She kept right on laughing, burying her face in her hands until the laughter turned to tears. Tears for Anna, for the son who didn't truly know her, for the things Brenda had said to Sharon, for the things she had done to Fritz. She cried and cried, and Sharon let her.

When the tears finally subsided, Brenda looked up through red-rimmed eyes to find Sharon watching her with a remarkable sort of calmness.

"Where did you go, Brenda Leigh?" Sharon asked softly. It was only the second time Sharon had ever called Brenda by her name, and the Chief found she liked the sound if it on Sharon's lips.

"I went to find Anna Grace," Brenda said, wondering for a moment if Sharon remembered her confession from all that time ago, before Brenda had been a royal bitch, before the race for Chief of Police, before Goldman. One look in Sharon's eyes, and Brenda knew she did.

"And did you find her?" Sharon asked.

Brenda considered the question for a moment. Anna was gone, that much was certain, but Brenda had found the pictures of Anna in all the places she'd always wanted to go, the words she'd written to Brenda, the last pieces of Anna Grace Robinson that existed now.

"I did," she said finally, and Sharon nodded.

An uneasy silence fell between them.

_I have never in my life wanted anyone as badly as I wanted her, until I met you._

"Sharon," Brenda began haltingly, avoiding the brunette's eyes, "why are you here?"

Sharon picked at a corner of the table, seeming just as reluctant as Brenda was to make eye contact. "I was worried about you," she said finally. "I have come to…look forward to your presence in my life, as irritating as it can be at times, and when you were gone, I was worried. I just wanted to know that you were okay," she looked up as she finished, and this time Brenda did not look away.

Brenda reached out across the table and Sharon met her halfway, twining their fingers together as she had done on her back patio that night what seemed like a lifetime ago. Brenda felt as though a fire had filled her, as if she were standing beneath the sun she remembered from that summer all those years ago. This was Sharon sitting across from her, the woman who had helped her through these last few months, not the Captain who had seemed so cold when they first met. This was a woman who knew what she wanted and pursued it, who faced the consequences of her actions, who was not afraid to be what she needed herself to be. She had a courage Brenda couldn't help but admire.

The realization that she was sitting in her aunt's kitchen holding Sharon Raydor's hand did eventually land on Brenda, and with a certain amount of regret, she began to pull away. She expected Sharon to shut her down the way she had the first time, to send her away again, and yet Sharon did not allow her to go. Sharon rose slowly, still holding tightly to Brenda's hand, and pulled the blonde to her feet.

"You really are ok?" Sharon asked, reaching out with her free hand to brush a stray curl back from Brenda's face with an affection that left the blonde breathless.

Brenda leaned in and dropped a kiss on Sharon's cheek, to thank her for her efforts, for her concern, for her very presence. Sharon had found her without the slightest trouble; Fritz hadn't even called her.

"I really am," Brenda told her as she leaned back, smiling more brightly than she had in longer than she cared to remember. "I really am."

Sharon smiled awkwardly, still clutching Brenda's hand. "Good," she said.

The silence dragged on between them until Brenda simply couldn't bear it anymore. Sharon was lovely, Sharon was honest, Sharon was _here_. She used the hand still holding Sharon's to pull the other woman towards her, crashing their lips together before either of them could stop it.

Sharon made a sound in the back of her throat that was almost a whimper and Brenda used the opportunity to brush her tongue across Sharon's lips. Sharon was sweet and soft and everything Brenda had always thought she might be, but the blonde pulled away when she didn't feel Sharon kiss her back, suddenly terrified.

"Sharon, I'm so sorry," she said quickly, trying to pull herself away, but Sharon just laughed and wrapped her arms around the little blonde.

"Oh Brenda," she said, "Don't you see?"

Brenda had no idea what she was talking about but when the brunette pulled her closer and kissed her right back, she realized exactly what Sharon meant. The emotion in her touch, the fierceness in her kiss said more than words ever could. Sharon was braver than Brenda had ever given her credit for.

Brenda sank into the kiss, wrapping herself up in the warmth of Sharon Raydor. Her troubles and memoires faded away until all she knew was Sharon, the brush of her lips, the way their tongues danced together, the strength of the slender arms wrapped around her. This was freedom, this was life. This was everything Brenda wanted.

She smoothed her hands down Sharon's back, coming to rest on the firm swell of the other woman's ass, earning herself a moan of approval. Sharon's hands began to wander, too, over Brenda's shoulders and down her chest until Sharon's fingers caught the hem of Brenda's shirt. She ground her hips against the other woman's to signal her permission, moaning when she felt the warmth of Sharon's fingers against her skin, pulling the shirt up and off. Sharon didn't seem to mind the thin sheen of sweat that covered Brenda's body; she leaned forward and dragged her tongue across Brenda's collarbone, causing the blonde to shudder beneath her. Brenda longed to feel the rush of Sharon's skin under her hands and reached for the buttons of Sharon's blouse, the brunette shifting her position to give just enough room for Brenda's hands between them. Sharon was panting against Brenda's neck, laying suckling kisses across her skin. Brenda's fingers trembled with her need, fumbling as she brushed the swell of Sharon's breasts beneath the fabric.

She slipped her hands under the shirt, fingers finding purchase on the smooth skin of Sharon's shoulders before she eased the shirt down and off. They stood still for a moment, both shirtless and out of breath, stunned by the force of their passion for each other, how quickly this had happened, how easily they had fallen into each other. Brenda knew that her initial attraction to Sharon had been based on no more than her resemblance to Anna Grace and the promise of reliving her past. Things had changed, however. Brenda wanted _Sharon_, her indefatigable Captain, the only person who seemed to see Brenda for who she was. Brenda wanted Sharon, wanted to feel every part of her, to watch her come undone underneath Brenda's hands, to give her the same rush of joy Brenda felt when Sharon's fingers brushed her skin.

Those same slender fingers were toying with the straps of Brenda's bra, green eyes watching her with lust but also with a hint of concern.

"Are you sure, Brenda Leigh?" Sharon asked, her voice low and warm, wrapping around Brenda like the familiar embrace of an old friend.

Brenda didn't answer with words; instead she leaned forward, brushing her lips against Sharon's softly. Sharon's hands slid over her shoulders to find the clasp of her bra, her hips nudging the blonde backwards until her back collided with the wall. Sharon peeled the bra from her skin and sighed happily, her lips returning to the safe haven of Brenda's neck as her hands came back to cradle the firm weight of Brenda's breasts.

"You are so lovely," Sharon murmured against her skin between kisses. "So lovely."

Brenda's breath caught in her throat and she found she could make no reply. It was almost too much too fast, the warmth of Sharon against her, the promise in her damp kisses. What could she say? She'd wanted Sharon for months, had dreamt of how this might feel, but the reality of it made her dreams seem bland and uninspired. She never imagined that Sharon would follow her here, that Sharon would take the time to find her, that she might feel as strongly as the blonde herself did. And there could be no doubt of the depth of feelings, not when she was touching Brenda so tenderly, almost reverently. Brenda longed to return the favor, to see all of her Captain laid bare before her, but she sensed that Sharon had a different plan and for the moment she consented to allow Sharon to set the pace.

The Captain was sliding down Brenda's body, hands nearing the blue jeans slung low on Brenda's hips, mouth heading for the aching heaviness that had settled in Brenda's breasts.

The Chief moaned wantonly when she felt her Captain's lips wrap around one dusky nipple even as her hands popped open the button of Brenda's jeans. She arched her back, pushing more of her flesh against Sharon's mouth, dropping her hands to tangle in silky dark hair. Sharon slipped one hand inside Brenda's jeans, passing through damp curls until she found the warmth of Brenda's center. Brenda cried out when she felt the brush of those slender fingers against her where she wanted them most, and Sharon simply hummed, nipping gently at the tender nub of her nipple before releasing it to gaze into Brenda's eyes, her expression clouded by a sort of hunger mixed with affection that made Brenda feel as if her heart would burst out of her chest.

"Please," Brenda gasped, but Sharon just smiled, dragging her damp fingers away so she could pull Brenda's jeans and panties both down Brenda's legs, gentle hands lifting her feet as she pulled the last of Brenda's clothes off. Sharon remained crouched below her, a hand behind each of her knees, staring up at the expanse of bare skin before her with a look of wonder on her face.

"Why me?" she asked in a low voice, leaning forward to place a kiss on Brenda's thigh, and the blonde felt the tug of tears at the honesty of the question. She returned her hands to Sharon's hair, lifting the heavy curls out of the way so she could see her Captain's face.

"Oh, Sharon," she said, "Don't you know how beautiful you are? How kind and good and strong you are? You make want to be a better person. You make me want to see you smile."

Sharon did smile then, a dazzling flash of joy that warmed Brenda's heart. Brenda thought she could spend all the rest of her days telling her Captain everything she admired about her, just to see her smile that way.

Sharon rose to her feet slowly, dragging her hands up the back of the blonde's legs until they came to rest on Brenda's ass, gently squeezing the flesh and eliciting a mewling sound from the Deputy Chief who stood captivated by her beauty.

Brenda could take the slow pace no longer and pulled the Captain to her, fingers searching for the zipper of her skirt as her tongue attacked the other woman's mouth, fighting to taste every inch of her. She felt Sharon tremble beneath the weight of their combined desire.

The skirt slithered down the length of Sharon's legs, revealing the pale skin stretched taut over firm muscle and Brenda was overcome by the desire to drag her tongue over the contours of Sharon's skin, to feel the rush of the other woman's blood under her mouth. She settled for tugging at the lacy panties that hugged Sharon's hips. The Captain grinned impishly at her, removing the garment herself. She reached around to unclasp her bra, but Brenda stopped her; she wanted to do this herself, to see the dark-haired beauty revealed to her hungry eyes slowly. Sharon seemed almost shy as she dropped her hands, allowing Brenda to finish undressing her. The last barrier removed and they stood bare to one another in the kitchen of the empty house, cicadas outside the window creating a symphony in the gathering dark.

Brenda longed to explore her Captain but Sharon had had enough of waiting. She grasped one of Brenda's legs, encouraging the blonde to wrap it around her waist as she leaned forward, nibbling gently on her earlobe and whispering, "Hold on to me."

Brenda followed the order, using her leg to pull Sharon closer, their centers almost touching, her hands clutching Sharon's shoulders as though the dark haired woman was a life raft and Brenda was drowning.

Neither hesitated as their lips crashed together again, and Sharon's free hand drifted back over the toned muscles of Brenda's stomach, finally reaching its destination. Sharon swallowed Brenda's moan through their kiss, the fingers of one hand clutching her hip bruisingly while the others searched through dripping folds, playing in the moisture gathering there. She brushed Brenda's clit with the lightest of touches and the Deputy Chief felt as though she would fly apart on the spot. Sharon released her mouth, leaning back to watch her face as she pushed two fingers inside her lover without preamble. Brenda cried out, bucking her hips into the touch, the delicious pressure of Sharon inside her. She fought to keep her eyes open, wanting to remember every moment of this experience. She caught her Captain's darkened gaze and fell into the depths of those clear green eyes. Sharon had forgone her glasses today and Brenda was grateful that nothing stood between her and the obvious ferocity of the Captain's desire for her.

"Fuck, Sharon," she gasped as the Captain thrust within her, using her hips to increase the force behind each motion, her palm grinding against Brenda's clit with every stroke.

"Do you feel that, Brenda?" Sharon husked, leaning forward to drop nibbling kisses across the mounds of Brenda's breasts. "Do you feel me inside you?"

Sharon's voice ran like liquid fire through Brenda's veins, making her dizzy with want. Her fingers dug into the woman's shoulders and for the briefest moment Brenda worried her nails might be drawing blood. But then Sharon latched onto her pulse point, sucking hard as she added a third finger and Brenda's world exploded in a burst of color. All she knew was Sharon, the warmth of her mouth, the forceful possessiveness of her fingers, the silky brush of her hair against Brenda's hands. The blonde was dimly aware that she was screaming, and for the first time in her life she wasn't embarrassed about the sounds she made or worried about who might hear them.

The bruising force of the dark-haired woman's thrusts continued unabated as she dragged her lips back up to Brenda's ear, sucking the lobe gently between her teeth as Brenda shook beneath her.

"I can feel you," Sharon moaned against her ear. "So hot, so wet… come for me, Brenda. Come with my fingers inside you. Let me hold you up."

One final thrust and Brenda did as she was told, flying apart with a wail, her inner walls clamped down tight on Sharon's hand, holding the other woman deep inside her as if to never let her go.

Sharon eased them down to the floor, pulling Brenda into her lap and holding the blonde's still-spasming sex protectively in her hand. As Brenda came back to herself she realized that she was crying, salty tears dripping onto Sharon's skin where she had buried her face in the other woman's neck.

"Jesus, Sharon," she choked out, and Sharon chuckled softly, running her free hand over Brenda's tangled hair.

"You're gorgeous when you come," Sharon said, her words sending a shiver down Brenda's spine.

"You're just gorgeous," Brenda replied, her voice still shaking. Sharon laughed again, slowly easing her hand out from between Brenda's legs. The blonde voiced her disappointment at the loss, trying to follow Sharon's fingers with her hips. Sharon lifted three glistening fingers up to her mouth, lips and tongue cleaning each in an erotic display that seemed to flip a switch inside the little blonde. Brenda made a sound that was almost a growl and lunged forward, pushing Sharon to the floor, her tongue invading the other woman's mouth, moaning at the taste of herself on Sharon's tongue.

Sharon fought to regain control but Brenda wouldn't let her, straddling her hips and holding her in place with her body. She ground down shamelessly against the brunette beneath her and grinned when Sharon moaned into her mouth.

Brenda dragged her lips away, hell-bent on making the Captain come apart now. She ran her tongue down Sharon's neck, over the valley between her breasts, making a mental note to spend more time there in the future. Sharon shuddered as Brenda's mouth moved across her stomach, as Brenda's hands caught hold of her legs Brenda rearranged the limbs so that Sharon's feet were planted on the floor, her knees bent and legs spread open, Brenda resting in the cradle of her hips. Sharon looked utterly wanton, her hair a tangled mess from Brenda's fingers, her breasts heavy and heaving with her uneven breaths, her folds glistening with her need for Brenda.

"So wet," Brenda breathed against scratchy curls, running a finger through the gathering dampness there. "So beautiful," she added, dragging her mouth downward to lick through the length of Sharon's slit. The older woman just hummed, her hips rising up to follow the path of Brenda's tongue, chasing her own release. Brenda laughed at her eagerness, drawing her mouth back up to latch onto Sharon's clit. Brenda suckled it gently, listening to the soft sounds Sharon made, before she brought her hands into play. She slipped a single finger inside her lover even as she stretched to palm a breast, and Sharon writhed beneath her.

"God, Brenda so good," she panted, "You feel so good."

Brenda had never been one for talking during sex, but she'd never fucked someone with a voice like Sharon's, and she loved hearing her now.

One of Sharon's hands tangled in Brenda's hair, and the other covered Brenda's hand on her own breast, encouraging her as she molded the firm flesh under her fingers. Brenda added a second finger and thrust harder and harder, teeth just barely scraping the edge of Sharon's clit and then the woman was coming, her sex almost breathing around Brenda's fingers, her voice ragged as she cried out her release. Brenda kept her mouth on her lover, gently easing her through the tremors of her orgasm until Sharon quieted and gently tugged on her hair, drawing her up to rest against the softness of Sharon's chest. Sharon dropped a kiss on Brenda's hair, sighing contentedly.

Brenda would gladly have stayed there forever, listening to the steady thrum of Sharon's heartbeat, but the truth was they were lying on the cold, hard tiles of the kitchen floor and neither could stay there comfortably for long. Sharon nudged Brenda and they rose together, each reaching for the other's hands as they studied the mess of clothes. Brenda smiled sheepishly and Sharon drew her close, kissing her temple. The intimacy of the action made Brenda's knees weak, and she smiled as she pulled Sharon down the hall towards the bedroom that had been hers one summer all those years before. They burrowed beneath the covers together, legs and arms and hair and fingers tangling up until neither could tell where one stopped and the other began.

"Thank you for finding me," Brenda whispered against Sharon's skin, and the other woman held her a little closer.

"You found me," she said with a smile Brenda could feel more than she could see.

They had found each other, the destination neither had realized they were rushing towards all along. They had come home.


End file.
